


Tattoos and Mental Hospitals

by cynical_taire



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Child Neglect, Depression, F/M, Hallucinations, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Schizophrenia, Self Harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-03
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-10 07:24:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3281909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cynical_taire/pseuds/cynical_taire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“Grantaire… I think… I love you.”</em>
</p><p> <em>Slowly, upon hearing those words escape from Enj’s lips, he moved his hands upward, so he was stroking the back of Apollo’s neck. His hands, for the first time in a long time, were not shaking, and he was totally captivated by Enjolras, who held R with his gaze.</em></p><p>  <em>“I love you,” Enjolras repeated. “Grantaire, I love you.”</em></p><p>  <em>Grantaire’s lips were on Enjolras’s, and they kissed. It was enchanting. It was important.</em></p><p>  <em>It was love.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I started writing this about a month or two ago based off a mental hospital AU. It started to really take off, and I love developing the slow romance of ExR, as well as slowly introducing other relationships. I'm not sure exactly how it's all going to pan out yet, but it's looking good so far.
> 
> Please let me know what you think of the first chapter in this addition, I'm always looking for feedback! Thank you! <3

Enjolras clutched his bag as he stared at the white walls of the hospital. Why had he let Joly talk him into this? He had more important things to be doing than be taking a trip to the mental institute.

“There’s someone I really want you to meet,” Joly told him quietly as he straightened his white nurses uniform. “He’s got some really good opinions on politics, and—ever since he saw the video of you at the rally last year—has been talking about you.”

“I really don’t want to get in an argument with a medically insane guy,” Enjolras stated. “Courfeyrac is as close to ‘medically insane’ as I’m willing to get.”  
   
The nurse let out a chuckle, but didn’t respond. 

They continued to the mental ward in silence, and, when they arrived, Joly pushed open the white doors without hesitation.

Enjolras wasn’t necessarily _afraid_ of the patients in there. But, upon seeing them in various states of mental health, he gripped his bag a little tighter, his knuckles turning as white as the walls around him.

“Over there.”

Joly didn’t stop until they reached a table, hosting a little boy of maybe eleven. He had stringy, shoulder-length blond hair, the bright eyes of a child, and a small armband around his wrist that read, “Gavroche Thénardier” in bold letters. A teenage girl sat next to him, having long brown hair that she constantly pushed out of the way so it didn’t get in the way of the paper they were profusely coloring on.

“Joly,” the girl stood when the two approached, whereas the boy—Gavroche—just glanced up. “And you must be Enjolras.”

Enj shook her hand and then, nervously pushed his curly blond hair out of his eyes. When Joly had talked him into coming, he hadn’t mentioned that the boy in subject was… well, a _boy._

“I’m Éponine,” she continued past Enjolras’s silence. “And this is my little brother, Gavroche. He really loves the work Les Amis de l’ABC does, and is incredibly excited to meet their leader.”

“It’s good to know we have admirers this young.” He knelt down and examined what the boy was drawing. “Nice color choice.”

Gavroche cracked a smile and set down his red colored pencil. “I’m not as young as I look.”

“Is that so?”

“Sometimes the littlest people can do the biggest things.”

With that, Joly took his hand. “It’s time for your medication, Gav. Come on.”

Reluctantly, the boy stood up and followed Joly across the ward and out of sight. Éponine was still standing.

“I’ve seen you around before,” Enjolras said, trying not to sound as awkward as he felt.

“And I, you.” She sighed and sat down where Gavroche had been sitting, carefully avoiding eye contact with one of the patients. “I mostly work for my father at his inn, but I’ll occasionally pick up shifts at the café downtown… the Musain.”

“Yeah, the ABC often has meetings down there.” He paused. “If you don’t mind me asking… what’s your brother in here for?”

She looked away. “My parents were always neglectful of their boys. They left Gavroche at a gas station when he was five, and he got hit by a car and rushed to the hospital. He got hit in the head pretty badly, and they were afraid of letting him back into the ‘real world.’ So they stuck him in here, and he gets all of his schooling and education and shit done specially. I don’t see them releasing him anytime soon, either.”

“And you stayed with your parents?”

“They’re my legal guardians. If I tried to get away, they’d find some way to get me back… say I’m good for business. I visit Gavroche as much as I can, try to compensate for my parents not coming at all. I’m all he’s got.”

Enjolras finally started to loosen his grip on his bag, but didn’t respond. His gaze was currently focused on a man who had stepped into the ward. The only thing that gave away that he was a patient was the armband around his wrist. Otherwise, Enjolras would have thought him to be just a visitor. He looked fairly normal—to be in a psychiatric ward, at least.

He wore black sweatpants, a long-sleeved white shirt, and black socks. His black hair was wild with curls. The strange man also had electric green eyes that lit up the majority of his face, except what was darkened by the scruff on his chin. Enjolras struggled for a word to describe him, for he wasn’t beautiful, he was… ruggedly handsome.

As he got closer, Enjolras began noticing little details about him. His hands were shaking violently, he had bags forming under his eyes, his skin was abnormally pale, he was incredibly thin and lanky; he looked anorexic, he was so skinny. The man’s complexion was death-like, and he kept staggering. 

“Who’re you staring at?” Éponine asked suddenly, and Enj jumped a little at her voice. He watched than mysterious man sit down across the room with a rather large book.

Suddenly, a small boy was punching his arm playfully. Gavroche head-butted his shoulder and was saying something to him—Enjolras was too far away to make it out.

Éponine stifled a laugh. “Oh, _him_.”

“Who is he?”

She didn’t get a chance to answer, as Gavroche had returned with Joly by his side. “Grantaire doesn’t want to be bothered right now. Seems like he had a tough night.”  
   
“He probably did, kiddo.” She ruffled his hair as he began coloring again.

“Why don’t we go, Enjolras?” Joly said, smiling. “Don’t we have a meeting this afternoon?”

“Yes, the meeting. Yes.” He shook his head to try and clear his thoughts. The man—who had picked up his book once again—had completely startled him. 

“Maybe I can get you clearance to come next week,” Enjolras faintly heard Joly say to Gavroche. “I’m sure the ABC would love to have you.”  
   
Enj made an attempt at nodding in agreement, but his eyes had returned to the man. 

“Alright then.” Joly’s fingers grazed Enjolras’s arm, shocking him back to reality. With one last glance at the ruggedly handsome man, the duo bid Gavroche and Éponine goodbye and left the mental ward, Enjolras moving a little too hurriedly.

# ~

Les Amis de l’ABC had three “golden” members: the chief, Enjolras, the center, Courfeyrac, and the guide, Combeferre. Often called the Golden Trio, or Trinity—mostly by Bahorel and Feuilly—they were the best of friends. All three of them shared an apartment close to ABC’s meeting place, the Musain, and had grown up together. 

They were the root of the ABC, and had recruited the others around them. There was Bahorel, the joker, Feuilly, the redheaded orphan, Jean “Jehan” Prouvaire, the shy poet, Joly, the hypochondriac nurse, and Laigle, the unlucky man. The Friends fought for what they believed in: equality and justice. Each of them—excluding Feuilly—were students at the local university, studying for one thing or another.

When Enjolras and Joly arrived at the Musain, Courfeyrac was the only one of Les Amis there. The rest were civilians casually drinking coffee or another festive drink. Courfeyrac had his head on the table he was sitting at and a glass of water in his hand.

His wildly curly brown hair was flat today; drooping, almost. His mood brought the entire room into a more depressing state.

“Courfeyrac?” 

The man looked up, his face sullen. “Combeferre kicked me out of the apartment during my nap.”

“That doesn’t sound Combeferre,” Enjolras murmured, taking a seat.

“I _may_ have provoked him just a bit.” 

“There we go.” 

“He said my ‘snoring was too loud.’” Courfeyrac scoffed. “He’s sure as hell lucky he’s adorable.”

Enjolras just smiled in response.

“You okay, Enj? Something’s… different about you.”

The blond man shrugged easily, allowing his shoulders to gently rise and then fall again. 

“Hmm. Misty eyes, goofy smile, far-away look… you _met_ someone.”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

Courf raised an eyebrow.

“I didn’t exactly _meet_ him.”

“Oh, Enjolras!”

“It’s nothing, Courfeyrac. He was attractive, that’s all. I noticed a man. Where’s the crime?”

“No crime. Just… _aw_!”

“Will you shut up?”

“When are you going back to see him?”

Enjolras sighed. “I’m going back to the hospital tomorrow to visit Gavroche.” 

“ _Sure_.”

“Go to hell. 

“Love you, Enjy.” 

“Love you too, Courfeyrac.” 

# ~

“Want to know who he is?”

Éponine slid into the seat next to Enjolras. He had been staring at the mysterious man in the psychological ward. Today, Enj had position himself in proportion to the man, especially so Enjolras could see the way he read—today, his book was _The Grapes of Wrath_. Enjolras respected that.

“I’m not sure.” Éponine raised her eyebrows at his response. “I’m afraid what you’ll tell me will ruin my image of him.”

“That man comes in and out of a mental institute!” she exclaimed. “What did you expect?”

Enj pursed his lips. “You have a point. I guess… tell me. Who is he?”

“He goes by R—most of the time—but his real name is Grantaire. He’s pretty cool… probably my best friend. He looks after Gavroche when he’s here and I’m not, which is less often than you’d think. Taire is super smart, and he is one of the greatest artist I’ve ever known. He’s not a permanent resident of the ward; gets out for good behavior, a lot of times. The doctors observe him and don’t think there’s any reason to keep him locked up. Then he goes, does some stupid shit, and gets thrown back in.” 

“How? I mean, what does he do?”

“Watch him for a second.”

They observed Grantaire, silence passing between them. Enjolras had been watching R for awhile; he didn’t understand the difference another few seconds would make. He followed ‘Ponine’s line of sight right to Grantaire’s hands—his beautiful, shaky hands—as the man gripped the sides of the hardbound book. When he turned the page, the sleeve of his white shirt rode up and revealed what Éponine had been trying to show Enjolras.

“Is it depression?”

“The doctors aren’t entirely sure. Joly has money on it, though—he’s the only one around here who seems perfectly sure that Grantaire’s clinically depressed. But yeah. He’s on suicide watch.”

“Why the hell would they let him go if he’s on suicide watch? Even with good behavior?”

She wrinkled her nose. “I mean, he doesn’t really _act_ depressed. Besides making an occasional negative comment about himself, he’s not exactly showing the symptoms of someone who is on suicide watch—depression, maybe, but not suicide watch. He reads books, he interacts with the kids in here, he doesn’t even _try_ to pull anything like he does outside the institute. He’s squeaky clean in here.” 

Enjolras glanced again at the long cuts on Grantaire’s wrists. There were some fairly fresh ones along the scars, showing his life story on his sleeves. Literally.

“Outside the institute, he’s a mess.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “I know him quite well, both in here and out there. He drinks abundantly, he’s a total cynic, he does drugs. He’s technically unemployed, too, but he’s a brilliant artist. Even when he’s drunk, he can paint like a badass. They let him paint when he’s in her, but he gets repulsed by his own work a lot of times. Really, he’s often repulsed of _himself_.”

“When did you meet him?”

“After they admitted Gavroche. He’s about your age, so he’s a couple of years older than me. I don’t think it was the first time he’d been in here, but they were practically wrestling him in here the day Gav was assigned a permanent room. I was in seventh grade, and I thought… well, he was hot.

I started talking to him a week later, when he started reading to my brother. Gavroche hardly ever lets anyone do _anything_ for him, so I let the kid have his fun. Grantaire started helping me watch over him, and then, the year I got into high school, I started seeing him at school. He was a junior, I was a freshman, and he talked to me more than he talked to anyone. I had my first drink with him. I first smoked pot with him. I stopped smoking pot awhile back—even if he didn’t—and my boyfriend buys drinks for me nowadays.”

“What about him?” Enjolras quickly diverted the subject back to R. “Did he stop? Is he… in a relationship?”

“Not that I know of.” She smirked. “Why? Interested?”

“No. Just curious.”

Suddenly, Grantaire set his book down and stood up. Upon glancing around, his eyes met Éponine’s. They didn’t linger for long, though. His gaze was locked onto Enjolras the second he caught a glimpse of him. R examined Enjolras, his eyes wide and… enchanted.

It took him a minute to gather his bearings before he worked up enough courage to walk over to them.

“Éponine. Who’s your friend?”

“Hello to you, too.” She chuckled. “This is Enjolras, the man Gavroche has been going on about lately.”

“The ABC leader?” Grantaire asked. “You’re… not what I expected.” 

“I find that often happens. Les Amis is a very high class group, few people know that we’re run by a bunch of rebellious college students.” 

“I’m Grantaire,” he introduced himself, holding out one of his shaky hands. Enjolras examined it for a moment. His hands were _beautiful_. Chiseled to perfection, tan with perfect fingernails. Enj had never had a fetish for hands until he met Grantaire.

Enjolras shook it, a tingling rushing up his spine upon R’s touch. They felt as smooth and perfect as they looked.

“Are you getting out out anytime soon, Taire?” Éponine asked, ripping into their delicate moment that Enjolras was sure was just in his head.

“They might actually keep me this time,” he responded, withdrawing his hand from Enjolras’s. “Say I’m ‘too reckless’ and that they can keep me under control here. I guess they’re also trying to keep me out of prison.”

“What did you do this time?”

“I may have been caught with some illegal drugs in my possession.” The tone of his voice was hilarious to Enjolras; R was so proud of illegal drug use. “If they can prove me to have some kind of mental disorder or disease, I won’t have to go back to the correction facility. And no—they don’t consider depression a real disease.”

“Bullshit.”

“Doesn’t matter much. They wouldn’t diagnose me anyway. Joly is the only one here who _actually knows what he’s doing_.”

Enj tried to smile.

“Anyway. Where’s Gavroche? I’ve got a present for the little squirt.”

Grantaire turned around when he received a sharp tug on his sleeve. Gavroche was grinning up at him, his bright blue eyes innocent and pleading. R was obviously immune to the rather adorable look, but laughed and knelt nevertheless. He popped a towelette out of his pants pocket.

“Found this in an antique shop the other day. The owner was looking to be rid of it.”

Gavroche took the cloth and unwrapped it gently, revealing an ancient-looking dagger.

“Whoa!”

“Taire… how did they let you in here with that in your pocket?” ‘Ponine asked suspiciously.

“I told them what it was. You can’t use it—not anymore, at least. It belonged to a young revolutionary during the French Revolution. If anyone were to use it, the metal it was made of would crack right down the middle. It’s nearly two-hundred years old.”

Gavroche carefully used his fingers to graze the dull blade.

“Be careful with it, kid.” R patted the boy’s back and he ran off, probably to put the knife under his pillow.

“You gave a ten-year old a knife? God, you’ll be the death of him! Do you know how many ten-year olds own a fucking _knife_?”

R cocked his head at the beautiful stranger’s rant. “I got my first knife when I was nine. My father told me that every man should be ready to kill somebody at anytime. Then again, dad was pretty senile at that point. Whatever. At least I didn’t get Gav something he could _actually use_. I got it for him because that young revolutionary I mentioned reminds me a lot of Gavroche. He was _young_ young.”

“Yeah. It’s really not a big deal, Enj.” Éponine gave him a sympathetic smile as she agreed with the cynic. “I had a dagger when I was that young, too. A working one, as well. We—Gavroche and I—were raised by con-artists. He would’ve gotten one sooner or later, whether mom and dad care about him or not.”

Enjolras sighed, but didn’t say anything more on the subject. He was staring, once again, at Grantaire. One thing he noticed, since he had a better view of his face, was the thin little scars over his cheeks. Enjolras wondered what had been the source of those scars. Then he thought about it.

“It was nice to meet you, Enjolras,” Taire said, shaking the blond’s hand again. “I hope to see you sometime soon.”

Enjolras left the hospital with many things cycling through his head, the main thought being how he couldn’t wait to go visit the Thénardiers again.

# ~

Courfeyrac rolled his eyes as Enjolras collapsed onto their couch that night.

“Tired from staring at your dream boy all day?” 

“Hush.” Enj pulled the plate of takeout Chinese food that was on the ottoman closer to him. “How was your exam today?”

“What are we, an old married couple?”

“Apparently. Now tell me how badly you failed your Algebra exam.”

Courf released an exasperated sigh and slammed the back of his head on the couch. “It was _so bad_ , Enj! Why the fuck do I even need this for life? When will I _ever_ use a fucking quadratic equation in the real fucking world?” 

“Thanks for that, Courfeyrac.” Combeferre groaned as he emerged from his bedroom, phone in hand. “That was my boss I was talking to. He heard your rather loud cursing and ‘didn’t appreciate it.’”

“Oh. I’m sorry, Ferre.” He paused, carefully phrasing his statement. “Your boss was a dickbag anyway.” 

The look Combeferre gave him was a pure look of annoyance that both Courf and Enjolras knew too well.

“Did you get fired?” Enj questioned.

“No, thankfully. But I’ve got to work overtime tomorrow because he got so pissed off. And probably for the next two weeks, as well.”

“How long?”

“At least an hour.”

Enjolras frowned. “You’ll miss the meeting! I got permission to bring Gavroche, too. We were gonna go down to the park.”

“I don’t have a choice, Enjolras. If I don’t work this shift, there’s no way in hell I’ll be able to keep my job. And I _need_ this job to keep paying rent.”

The leader nodded. Combeferre had always struggled with money for as long as Enj could remember. His dad couldn’t work, and, even though his mom worked two jobs, it was barely enough to pay the rent of his parents’s house. He never wanted to ask his parents for money, and had had a job since he was old enough to have one. He worked hard as a bag boy to maintain his income. And, thankfully, he’d gotten a full scholarship to an established university and split the rent of an apartment with his two friends.

“Well, we’re here for you,” Courfeyrac murmured with an apologetic look on his face. “Never forget that.” 

Ferre snorted. “You wouldn’t _let me_ forget it.” He paused, sliding between to his friends on the couch. “Oh, and by the way, the quadratic equation has many uses in ‘the real world,’ especially if you aspire a career in science of mathematics or architecture—”

“That’s the problem!” Courfeyrac all-but shouted. “I don’t _know_ what I aspire to be! But this is a required class and I can’t fail it or I’ll graduate late and Dad will be pissed and I won’t walk with you guys because you’re so goddamn smart and—”

“Courf!” Enjolras and Combeferre cried out in unison. He stopped his ranting and glanced at his two best friends. 

“Do you need one of us to tutor you?” 

“That would be fantastic. Because unless I pull my fucking grade up, all that _stuff_ is gonna happen and it’ll be bad.”  
   
“I’ll tutor you tomorrow. You’ll just have to come up to the hospital with me.”

“You spend an awful lot of time at that hospital, Enjy. Did you catch a case of _love_?”

Enjolras snorted. “Fuck off, Courfeyrac.”

Laughing, Courf spread out on the couch, throwing his feet on top of Enjolras. Enj made a playful attempt to push him off. Failing, as he thought he would, he curled his body around the other man’s legs, resting his head on Courfeyrac’s stomach. Ferre slid his body underneath Courf’s chest, folding in on his friends. The trio burst into giggles, but not one of them moved.

“It’s pretty sad that we’re grown ass men and we still do this,” Courfeyrac murmured between chuckles. “This is something we did when we were _seven_.”

Combeferre kicked his loafers off. “Well, our seven-year old selves knew what was up, because this is pretty damn comfortable.”

“Pretty damn comfortable indeed.”

Courfeyrac’s eyes were closed, and the other two were sure—based on his lack of response—that he was asleep. Enjolras, too lazy in that moment, decided against going to his room to sleep, and shut his eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silly boys crushing on each other. Les Amis introduces Gavroche into the group. Joly and Grantaire get into an interesting conversation late at night, and discover something shocking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found this chapter a little difficult to write. Not the fluffy ExR part, necessarily, but the end of this chapter (which comes with a slight surprise). I recently started having some of the things Grantaire is having, and it's been a really frightening and upsetting experience, which worked its way into my writing. Sorry if I upset anyone with this condition, but I really want to explore how Taire reacts in this situation. Hopefully better than I do.
> 
> Thanks again for reading, and know that I'm always open to comments/concerns. Please let me know what you think!

The next morning, Enjolras and Courfeyrac were walking down the street to the hospital. Enj was wrapped in his favorite red jacket and casual blue jeans, knee-high black boots on his feet. Courfeyrac wore a blue overcoat with a matching beanie, which settled his hair. Freezing their asses off, they still trudged through the snow with Algebra books in their arms.

“Are you gonna let me meet your sex-god of a boyfriend?” Courf asked as they approached the doors of the hospital.

Enjolras glared at him. “He’s _not_ my boyfriend, I hardly know him.”

They didn’t speak to one another again until after they’d checked in. Joly smiled at them as he rushed about his job. A pretty blond nurse grinned slyly at the pair of them.

When they reached the doors of the phycological ward, the first major thing that happened was a slight surprise.

“Grantaire?” Courf all-but shouted the second he walked in. Taire turned away from his coffee to see them, a wild grin on his face.

“No way,” the cynic muttered, coming up to them. “Long time, no see, Courfey- _luck._ ”

“I know, _Gay-taire._ It’s been much too long.”

Enjolras frowned. “You two… know each other?”

“Since you and Ferre had a different gym class than me in middle school and high school thanks to the ass-wipes that ran the administration, I had to make a friend somewhere. Grantaire was the only one in that class that was worth talking to.”

“Same to you, bud. How’ve you been? You must be in college, right? You’re apart of the ABC too, I’m assuming? Good. You’re actually doing something with your life. Besides, under Enjolras’s lead, you guys are going places.” 

“You remember my name?” 

R smiled gently. “Of course. How could I forget?”

Enjolras beamed.

The expression on Courfeyrac’s face was priceless. “You both are fucking insane. I love it.”

“We were meant to be,” Grantaire said with a sparkle in his eyes. “Friends, I mean.”

“Yeah. Friends.”

Courfeyrac rolled his eyes, and turned to find himself face-to-face with a small boy.

“I recognize you,” Gavroche said, “You’re Courfeyrac, right? The center of the ABC? I’ve seen a lot of your speeches; I watch a lot of YouTube videos whenever Joly’s on duty because he’s the only one who doesn’t think Les Amis is too violent for me.”

The leader looked offended. “ _Violent_ —?”

“Enjolras.” Courfeyrac shot him a glare before his smile returned. “Well, Joly’s a little biased on the subject, considering. You seem like a very clever little dude, Gavroche. We could use minds like yours in the ABC.”

“Can I join?”

Courf laughed. “You’re going to a meeting today, aren’t you?”

The smile that shone on Gav’s face was beautifully happy. He caught a glimpse of Éponine and paraded over to her to share the good news.

“Courfeyrac, I don’t think you should’ve told him that,” Enj stated plainly with concern lining the features of his face. 

“I agree with him,” Grantaire said. Enjolras did his best to keep his cheeks from turning bright red; it was a skill he excelled in.

“He seems like a good kid. He shouldn’t be here, you told me that yourself.” Courfeyrac pursed his lips. “Besides, who says he can’t join? The kid’s got enough ambition for it.” 

Enjolras sighed. “He’s young, but he does, like you said, have ambition. Gavroche is definitely interested. We just need to be careful with him, I’m sure he’s fragile.” He paused. “Now, Algebra needs to be done.”

Grantaire groaned at the word “Algebra,” and so did Courf. Enjolras rolled his eyes, sat down at a table, and pulled out a textbook. Courfeyrac had a sorrowful expression on his face as he sank into a chair. Enj was not expecting Taire to slid into the seat directly next to him.

“What?” the cynic demanded at the other two’s questioning stares. “I’ve got nothing better to do.” 

# ~

“I never thought _you_ would like someone like _Grantaire_.”

“What’s wrong with him?”

“He’s… well, he’s skeptical. Doesn’t believe in anything. He’s lazy, he’s reckless, he’s _the exact opposite of you_ —”

“I don’t know, Courf. He’s attractive.”

“But you’ve never shown interest in attractive people before. I mean, you live with me.” 

“Shut up.”

Courfeyrac chuckled. The two of the were chatting on the drive to the nearby park. Joly volunteered to drive Gavroche to save the hospital from worrying more than necessary. He was a very safe driver.

“He likes you, you know?” Courf said, breaking the brief moment of silence. “First time he saw you, from what I can tell. I can read R pretty well,” he added quickly at Enj’s confused expression. “I’ve known him a long time. Same way I know you weren’t taking these hospital trips for _just_ for Gavroche.”

Enjolras didn’t have enough energy to protest. 

“Why don’t you ask him out?”

The leader snorted. “Yeah. Because it’s so easy to take a mental patient to on a date.”

“Well, if you _ask_ him and he says yes, maybe you could get Joly to give him a grant. I know he ships you two as much as I do.”

“But—I—”

“So it’s settled. When we take Gav back to the hospital, you’ll find Taire and ask him out.”

“Courfeyrac!”

“You know you want to. Just ask him. It couldn’t hurt.”

Enj clenched the steering wheel. “It sounds easy enough, I guess. Not that I wouldn’t be up for a challenge.” He grinned as he pulled into a parking space. “Not a word about this to the other, you hear?”

Courfeyrac smirked. “I hear. You’ve got my word.”

# ~

The meeting—which turned into more of a picnic when Bahorel showed up with food from his mother’s bakery—felt empty without Combeferre, but Gavroche’s big personality filled the empty void. He quick gained the love of the ABC, and convinced Courfeyrac to hoist him up on the older man’s shoulders. Enjolras found himself smiling within minutes of arriving, his fears of Grantaire vanishing.

“What’s up, Enj?” Feuilly asked, sliding into the picnic table next to Enjolras. “You seem oddly antisocial today.”

“Just thinking,” he replied, twisting his fingers into his own hair. A quick thought flashed through his mind of Grantaire’s hair between his fingers, and he quickly disentangled his fingers.

“You’re acting different. What are you thinking _about_?”

“Oh, you know. This and that.”

“Mhmm. Would ‘this and that’ happen to be on Instagram? Because Courfeyrac has been talking about how hot ‘this and that’ is since we got here.”

Enjolras groaned. “Please tell me you’re kidding. He swore—”

“Was he crossing his fingers?”

“Son of a bitch.”

Feuilly laughed. “And I thought you knew your best friend.” He paused, letting Enj loathe himself for a moment. “So, seriously. Instagram?”

“I don’t know, I don’t have a fricking Instagram. You know my opinion of social media.”

“Would you see if you can find him? You’d know what his name would be better than anyone.”

Feuilly allowed Enjolras to give him a frustrated look for a moment before the leader finally gave in and grabbed the phone from the ginger’s hand.

“Grantaire isn’t that common of a name,” Enj muttered, putting that name in the search bar. The search came up blank. “Dammit. He must not go by Grantaire.”

“His name is grand.r,” Gavroche murmured, coming up behind them on Courfeyrac’s shoulders. “Nobody goes by their real name on Instagram.”

“I wouldn’t know.” Enjolras put in “grand.r” in the search bar, and the first account that came up had a painted version of Grantaire’s face as the profile picture. It was a beautiful painting; it fully captured every aspect of his face, right down to the many faded scared. 

“Wow,” Feuilly stated, examining the most recent post. “That’s dark and depressing. Pretty awesome painting, though.”

“I think it’s a twisted version of the hospital’s phycological ward,” the leader commented, clicking on the picture to enlarge it. The walls in the painting were black, not white; the patients playing cards or watching television were skeletons; the nurses’s were demons. The only color in the entire painting was from the corner, where a male nurse had his hands on a little boy. The nurse was looking down at the boy, whose eyes were bright, bright blue. Emphasized to bring out the color in both of their bodies. The names, “Gavroche and Joly” were written in the corner in a ten-year old’s handwriting.

“Yeah, I helped R paint my eyes,” Gav told them. “He said I could sign my name on it like he does. I just did it in a more central place.”

“He’s a wonderful artist,” Courfeyrac said. “No matter how dark it is.”

“True.”

They continued to scroll through his artwork, stopping to exam all the good ones—which was the majority of them. There were also text posts about drugs and alcohol on there, but Enjolras hadn’t been expecting any different. Grantaire had issues. That’s partly the reason why he was in a mental institute. The other part was because he was fucking stupid sometimes.

“Can’t wait to meet him, Enj,” Feuilly chuckled. “He’s got a pretty face.”

“Mhm.” 

The others joined Feuilly’s laughing at the lovesick Enjolras.

_~_

“Grantaire? You’ve got a visitor.”

Joly stood at the door to Taire’s private bedroom. Grantaire had been lying on this bed, nearly finished with the brick of a book in his calloused hands. Joly was careful when addressing the cynic.

“What?” R asked.

“A visitor,” the medic repeated. “Like, a person who wants to see you.”

“I’ve been here for a very long time, if you total up all of my visits, and the only visitor I’ve ever had has been my parole officer. The only people I actually talk to are connected to Gavroche—”

“Would you please accept the visitor?” Joly groaned, “I’ve got stuff to do.”

Grantaire pursed his lips. “Okay. Send them in.”

Joly nodded once and went back to retrieve R’s “visitor.” He didn’t bother fixing himself up; it was more than likely his parole officer.

“Hey.”

He turned toward the beautiful voice he knew too well from watching YouTube videos with Gavroche. The angel leaned against the now-closed door. If anyone else but Joly had been on duty, they would’ve made sure the door remained open. But Joly trusted them—Enjolras, at least.

“Hi.” Grantaire struggled with finding something to say. He was so goddamn beautiful. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Courfeyrac and I had to drop Gavroche back here, and I thought I’d drop by and say hello.” He paused. “Hello.”

R shot him a smile. “Hello. How did the meeting go?”

“There was a lot more food this time, and we weren’t even at Café Musain,” Enjolras said, the tension breaking slightly. He sat in the chair across from Grantaire. “It kind of turned into a picnic. We didn’t get very much done.”

“Well, you _are_ friends, it’s good to have some downtime in addition to the work.”

“You know French?”

Taire shrugged. “My mother was an immigrant from France. We often spoke in French in my house while I grew up. I was born in Cannes.”

“Wow. That’s… attractive.” Enjolras paused while R frowned at the word, trying to figure out how “attractive” was a word to describe him. “Listen, Grantaire, would you like to go on a date with me?”

“A _what_?”

“A date. Unless you’re not into guys. If not, that’s totally okay. I just assumed—shit, I’m sorry—”

Grantaire laughed, cutting the blond man off. “No, no, don’t apologize. I… I’d love to go on a date. With you. Yeah. A date. Like, a _date_ date?”

“Yes, I believe so. A romantic date.”

“Oh. Okay. Right.” The tension had returned. “Yeah, I’d love to go on a romantic date with you. More than anything, actually.”   
Enjolras didn’t know how to respond. He liked how straightforward he could be, but it often made things more awkward than he wanted.

“I’ll talk to Joly and see if he can get you a grant. Go out to a nice place—”

“Actually, that might not be the best idea.” Taire looked nervous. “The management isn’t too keen on giving me a grant since the who ‘arrested’ thing. Maybe we could just hang here. Watch a movie, or something? It gets kind of empty in the common room around nine.”

“Yeah. I just thought… oh, never mind.”

“What?”

“I thought you’d want to get out.”

“No, it’s just… _fuck_. I’m not doing this right.” The cynic paused, gathering his bearings. “It might be better if we stay here. If you’re comfortable with that.”

“Of course. Anything.”

“Cool. Awesome.”

They were silent for a moment. Enjolras glanced up from the floor to find Taire staring at him, and, all at once, the silence was shattered by their laughter. Enj felt relieved; it hadn’t been _completely_ awkward.

“I should be going, Courfeyrac is driving me home.” Enjolras stood up and adjusted his bag. “I’ll stop by tomorrow, maybe?”

“Yeah. Yeah, if you can. I don’t want to inconvenience you or anything. I know you’ve got school and the ABC and stuff—”

“It’s not an issue, Grantaire. I _want_ to see you. You forget that it’s _me_ who asked _you_ out.” He began to walk over to the door, but just before he turned the handle, he said, “You’re a really good artist. I love the one of the common room. Really shows how much you love Joly and Gavroche. Anyway. Sleep well… R.”

# ~

Grantaire did not sleep well.

Not at all.

He’d had a problem with sleep since he was a kid, but it had worsened when he started drinking and smoking various things. He slept less and less as he aged. Nothing he did—nothing he took or didn’t take—helped him. 

“Do you want some NyQuil?” Joly asked for the third time that night. Whenever he worked night shifts, he spent most of the night with Grantaire. Neither of them could sleep.

“I’m fine, I promise. Just play.”

Joly moved his chess piece. The two were lounging in the common room. The clock on the wall read three o’clock. It got rather boring at nights, so the two often played games. Some nights it was cards, sometimes Monopoly, sometimes Poker. That night, it was chess.

“I’m assuming that the hospital hasn’t told you what the police have been saying?” 

“About?”

“Your trial.”

“Trial? What trial?”

“They haven’t told you anything? I’m telling you, the system is fricking corrupted—”

“Joly, please. Tell me about the trial.”

The medic sighed. “The police are investigating your… _illegal drug use_.” He narrowed his eyes. “The hospital isn’t backing you up on this one, man. They’re testifying that depression isn’t a real mental disease. I honestly think they just want you off their hands.” 

“So, if they testify that I’m perfectly sane and they release me…”

“You’ll go directly to jail. Do not pass go. Do not collect two-hundred dollars.”

Grantaire sighed. “How long would the sentence be?”

“Two years. At the least.”

“ _Goddammit_.”

Joly patted his back, before moving another chess piece. “I’ve been trying my best to defend you, Taire. I promise. But it’s not looking too bright for you. You’ll be carted off to prison at first chance without a proper testimony. You can’t go to fucking prison! Not suffering from the kind of depression you do! How can the fucking hospital not see that you’ve got a serious problem! _Anyone_ who looks at you can see that—no offense. You need help.”

“Thanks for trying to help. But I don’t think this one is going to turn up in my favor.” 

“I’m sorry. You really are a good person, Taire, even if they can’t see it past your flaws.”

“I broke the fucking _law_ , Joly. _I’m a criminal_. What I have weighing on my soul aren’t flaws, they’r just major screwups. Screwups that I probably won’t be able to fix.” 

The nurse was silent.

“Hey… did Apollo come to see me today?”

Joly coughed. “ _Who_?” 

“Oh, sorry. Enjolras. I’ve started calling him Apollo because he kinda resembles the god Apollo. The golden hair, the beauty, the grace…”

“Yeah, I can sort of see it. And yes, Enjolras came to visit. Why? Are you doubting it actually happened?”

“Well… kind of. I mean, I don’t believe in things, sometimes if they happen in front of my own eyes.” 

Joly sat up, his doctor-mode turned on. “Are you seeing things, Grantaire? Things that aren’t there?”

R clenched his fists. “I don’t know.”

“ _Grantaire_. I’m being as serious as I can possibly be right now. _Are you seeing things_?”

“I don’t know!” Taire jumped up quickly when Joly grabbed his arms. “I don’t know, okay? Things just seem off sometimes, like it’s not supposed to be there. People, objects, sounds… some of it is just _wrong_.”

The nurse stared at him for a moment before taking his hand gently. “Grantaire… come with me. We need to go see a doctor.”

“It’s nearly three—”

“Grantaire—”

“Can’t it wait until morn—?”

“ _Now._ ”

Taire frowned, but decided against arguing. He let Joly drag him into the hospital, into where a doctor was.

“Joly?” the doctor asked, recognizing the hypochondriac. “What are you doing away from your post?”

“You remember Grantaire from the psychological ward.”

The doctor smiled at the painter. “Yes, I believe we’ve met. What can I do for you?”

“I’d like to discuss the possibility of Grantaire’s condition being more than just depression. Something more to do with _hallucinations_.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire gets some disheartening news--Éponine and Gavroche get good news; ExR enjoy their first and second dates; Cosette gets introduced (yay).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the positive feedback! Honestly, that's the only thing keeping me writing this. I'm not really sure where exactly this is going? I have some ideas rattling around in my head, but nothing set in stone yet. If you have any suggestions please feel free to comment! 
> 
> Also (I know I say this a lot, sorry) I'm always open to comments, both negative and positive. Thanks so much again, and thanks for reading! <3

“Enjolras?” 

The blond man looked up from his Sociology textbook to see Joly approaching him at his table n the Musain. He finished taking a sip of his coffee before responding. “You look exhausted. What’s up?”

“Spent all night with Grantaire,” Joly explained quickly, sliding into the empty seat across from Enjolras. He pushed his brown hair out of his eyes nervously. “I had to transfer to intensive care at about three this morning.”

“What?” Enjolras sat straighter in his chair. “Is he okay?”

“He’s pissed off and scared as hell, but—as far as I know—he’s physically okay.”

“Why did you take him to intensive care? What happened?”

The nurse wrung his hands together. “He was talking to me last night about how he doesn’t believe some things actually happen—events, noises, et cetera. It concerned me a bit; anyone who is seeing and/or hearing something that’s not actually there is a bit concerning, you know? I asked him to tell me more about it, and… Jesus, what he was telling me was terrible. It made me think… sometimes, depression can be a side effect of…”

Enjolras urged him on. 

“… schizophrenia.”

That single, ugly word slapped Enjolras in the face. He usually thought of a schizophrenic person as being uncontrollable, wild, and sporadic. The R he knew was none of these things, except, from what he’d heard, uncontrollable, but only because he was rebellious. And Éponine’s stories often portrayed him as wild, but…

_No_ , Enj thought. _He can’t be schizophrenic. There must be a mistake_.

“It’s possible it could be something else entirely. Usually schizophrenia is a the last thing we would look for because there are so many other _minor_ things that could have hallucinations as a symptom. I’m just scared for him, and I’m not eliminating the possibility, especially since they haven’t released him from intensive yet.”

“Will I be able to visit him if he’s in there?”

“It can’t hurt to try. I’ve never seen a visitor in there before, but… you’re very persuasive, you might be able to get in.”

Enjolras nodded. “I’ll drive up there after my Sociology class. I was planning on going up anyway.”

“Right. You do that. _I’m_ going to go home and sleep for a very long time.”

“I’ll walk you there,” Bossuet said, pulling off his barista apron and putting his hands on Joly’s shoulders. Joly leaned back into Laigle’s chest with a moan, closing his brightly colored eyes.

Enj was never sure what to think of Joly and Bossuet’s relationship. The entire ABC had been speculating that they were dating, but every time they were confronted about it, they always diverted the subject. Feuilly and Bahorel—who lived in a four-bedroom apartment with them—were just as curious as the others, but had never seen the two do anything that would put them beyond being best friends.

As well as he knew his friends, Enjolras wasn’t entirely sure on all of their sexual orientations. Courfeyrac had admitted to him years before that he’d never had an interest in girls, no matter how much he flirted with them. Most of it was unintentional, but just in his personality. Combeferre claimed that he didn’t really care about identifying himself, and that he fell in love with whomever his heart led him toward, no matter their gender. He usually said this while staring at Courfeyrac.

Bahorel had never made a statement about his sexuality, nor had Feuilly or Jehan, and but Bahorel brought numerous girls to their meetings and Jehan had been caught passionately kissing a guy, once. 

Their own sexual orientations wasn’t something they shared with each other, but any way—or _position_ —they found each other in, nobody questioned it. They fought for freedom, including for gay rights, whether they were gay or not.

“Let me know when you hear about Grantaire,” Joly said as he pulled on his jacket. Bossuet stood dutifully behind him. “I’ll have my phone on, even if I’m asleep. Don’t hesitate to call.”

“I won’t.” Enjolras checked his phone on the table for its battery percentage. He cursed himself when he saw it was at fifteen percent. By the time he’d looked up again, Joly and Laigle had already gone.

He was already behind on his sociology homework; best to finish it while he had time. He’d worry about Grantaire later.

Just as Enjolras pulled his computer closer to him once more, a loud snort came from behind him. “That’s a lot of work you got there.”

He turned around to find a girl, sporting a barista’s apron, coming toward him from across the coffee shop. She was very pretty; her tall, slender body was covered in a loose-fitting tee shirt and shorts. Her eyes were bright blue, and she had straight blond hair that fell to her waist. She leaned over his chair to see what he was working on, and her hair fell on his shoulders.

“Can I get you anything?” she asked, meeting his eyes. “Something to eat, maybe?”

“No, thank you, I have plans for dinner.” Enjolras returned his gaze to his laptop, where his homework was screaming at him.

“More coffee?”

He paused his typing. “Really, I’m fine. I’ve got plenty.”

She slid into the seat next to him, fiddling with a pink bracelet on her wrist. “Sorry, I’m new at this. It’s my first shift, and my boss told me to make sure you’re extra happy.”

A chuckle escaped his lips. “Yeah, I’m one of the Musain’s biggest customer’s. I come here quite often.” He paused before closing his laptop and holding out his hand for her. “I’m Enjolras.” 

“Cosette.” She examined some of his notes. “Are you a student at the university?”

“Yes, I major in Anthropology.” 

“Anthropology? That’s very interesting. Is that why you’re in a sociology class?”

Enjolras smiled. “How’d you know?”

“I assumed that’s why you were writing a paper about sociology.”

“An un _finished_ paper on sociology. But yes. Are you a student?”

Cosette offered him a beam. “No, I’m still in high school, actually. A senior. I’ve been thinking of applying there, though.”

“That’s good. I definitely recommend it for its teachers and campus alone.”

“Thank you.” She stood up and held out her thin hand. “It was good to meet you, Enjolras. I hope to see you around sometime.”

He shook her hand, and she skirted away. Enjolras frowned for a moment after she left and asked himself, “ _Was she flirting with me_?” He shook it off before he thought to much on it.

# ~

Enjolras hated the sterile hospital smell. It reminded him of death. A clean death, maybe, but still. 

“What can I do for you, sir?” the lady at the desk entering the psychiatric wing asked him kindly. “Are you here to see someone?”

“Yeah, I’m here to see Grantaire. Is he available?”

She checked her computer for a minute before gulping. “Yes, he’s available. I’ll print you a visitor’s pass. May I have your name?”

“Enjolras.”

She began typing again.

“Why’d you hesitate?” he asked, capturing her attention again. “Is something wrong?”

“No, sir.” She handed him his visitor’s badge. “It’s just… Grantaire just got released from intensive care. He might be a little fragile.”

Enj nodded. “Thank you. Is he in his room?”

“He should be, yes.” 

He thanked her again before walking through the common room. Gavroche was nowhere to be seen, and the common room seemed pretty quite for the afternoon. Enjolras continued toward the private rooms, and quickly located Grantaire’s.

The door was sealed, but light was shining out from underneath. Enj gently rapped on the wood. There was a quick inhale on the other side of the door, and, after a moment of bustling, it opened.

Taire looked… horrible. There wasn’t a better word to describe him in that moment. His eyes were bloodshot and the circles underneath them were darkening, he’d let his facial hair grow out more than it had been. His hair was a mess—more so than usual—and he was wearing a white hospital gown. In all the times that Enjolras had seen him, R had never worn the typical hospital outfit. 

“Enjolras?”

The painter’s stare, which had been hard a moment before, turned soft. 

“Hello, Grantaire. How’ve you been?”

Taire blinked a few times as Enjolras let himself into Grantaire’s room and sat on he chair in the corner. R turned back toward him, and the leader raised his eyebrows expectantly. 

“Well?”

“I’ve been busy,” Grantaire responded, closing the door skeptically. 

“Yeah, I’ve heard a lot about that. You look terrible, would you like some water?” Enj pulled a water bottle from his bag and tossed it to Grantaire, who caught it swiftly. “Drink. You look slightly dehydrated.”

Taire set the bottle on the dresser before sitting on his bed. “Are you okay, Enjolras?”

“I should be asking _you_ that.”

“I’m fine, I guess.” 

“Don’t pull that crap with me. Be honest.” 

R was taken aback by Enjolras statement, still said in a calm tone. He took a minute before responding. “I’m scared. I’m really fucking scared.”

“I understand that. You have a right to be scared. From what Joly told me…”

“They don’t know what it is.” Grantaire scratched at the sheets on the bed. “And… I don’t know, I’ve been seeing things since I was a little kid. My mom used to say it was a sign that I was special—different from everyone out there. She thought I was just making up stories to get attention, I think.”

“Did they do a MIR?” 

“Yeah, but they haven’t gotten the clear images yet. A _shrink_ had to talk to me, too. They’re checking every possible solution with this thing.”

“Good.” Enjolras leaned forward and grabbed Grantaire’s shaking hand and held it. “It’s going to be okay. I promise.” 

Grantaire was so shocked by the fact that Enjolras was touching his hand that he didn’t have a response. A knock fell upon the door, and Enj got up to answer it.

“Pizza for Enjolras?”

“That would be mine. Here.” The leader handed the pizza man a twenty dollar bill. “Keep the change.” 

In just a few minutes, Enjolras had the pizza box open on the bed and they each had a slice in their hands.

“This an okay first date?” the blond asked.

R snorted. “Pizza and a beautiful man. It’s perfect.” 

Enjolras knew he was beautiful. He had never once had any reason to deny his own beauty. People stared at him when he walked down the streets, he was so beautiful. But somehow, when Grantaire called him beautiful, it was different. He almost allowed himself to blush.

“So, what are you supposed to do on a first date?” 

Taire laughed. “Have you never been on a first date before?”

“Once, but it wasn’t my choice. This is. What do you do?”

“Well… you get to know one another. Like, what’s your favorite color?”

Enjolras cocked his head, which made Grantaire laugh harder. Finally, the leader answered. “Red, probably.”

“Why?”

The look on Enj’s face at R’s question was priceless.

“Sorry, I’m an artist. There’s got to be a reason that your favorite color is red, yes? It’s the way your eyes perceive it. Red is a particularly appeasing color, but why is it your favorite?”

“Because it’s vibrant, I guess. It reminds me of anger, and how your blood boils. It’s the blood of angry men.” He paused, allowing Grantaire to intake his words. “What’s your favorite?”

“I suppose it’d have to be green. Not a forest green, though—the color of my eyes. It’s very appealing.” 

Enjolras nodded. 

“What are you going to school for?”

“I major in anthropology, but I aspire to be a patient advocate. And lead the ABC while doing that, or, if I can remain financially stable while leading Les Amis—which is highly unlikely—then I make that my full time job. Otherwise, it’s advocacy for me.”

“Very interesting.”

“What are your goals, Grantaire? Or, should I say, what do you wish to do with the rest of your life?”

“I dunno.” R caressed the hospital bracelet on his wrist. “Right now it looks like a mental hospital or jail for the next five years, at least.”

“Have you ever though about college?”

“I have, but it never seemed real for me. Whenever I’m not locked away in here, I barely have enough money to stay on my feet, much less pay tuition. I’m an artist. Doesn’t really pay the bills. College has never been a real option for me.”

Enj smiled. “You really are intelligent. Don’t laugh; I’m serious. You could whip some of my professors. I think you’d make a great student.” 

Grantaire was silent, but he seemed to be amused by Enjolras’s comment.

“Tell me more about yourself.”

“Well, I graduated high school about two years ago, and since then I’ve been working full time at a gas station. Pretty shitty, I know, but I have a lot of knowledge about some of the things they sold. Even though I was underage when I started, the owner knew my dad and knew me pretty well, so he gave me the job. It was a win-win situation.

“I’d already been going in and out of here for awhile, by then. My sister was the first one who admitted me when I was in high school, said she was worried about my health. They let me out a few days after, but they kept a close eye on me. Whenever they thought I needed it, they’d pull me back in. Fucked with my education, fucked with my job, when that came, and overall just fucked with my life. But there’s nothing I can do.”

“Éponine told me a little bit about you… when I first saw you. I used to stare at you all the time when I’d visit Gavroche.” 

Grantaire laughed. “I know. I saw you. Couldn’t believe my eyes, at first, but yeah, I saw you.”

Enjolras’s blue eyes twinkled. 

“How moral were the things that Miss Thénardier told you?”

The blond man was slow to reply. “That depends on your definition of moral, I guess.”

“Oh, god.” Grantaire collapsed in on himself, the pizza that had been in his hand gone. “What did she tell you?”

“She told me that you were very intelligent, and a fantastic artist. Both of those I’ve come to see about you on my own. Éponine also _mentioned_ that she thought you were hot; I share the thought.” Enjolras inhaled deeply before continuing. “She told me about how you come in and out of here, and… and about how you are outside. How you’re reckless. _That_ I don’t see.”

“ _Fuck_.” Taire took deep breaths, his eyelids pulled over his eyes. “I don’t know what you see in me, Enjolras, but I’m a horrible person, at least out there. The reason I didn’t want to get a grant is because I get so _bad_ outside of here. Whenever I’m locked in here, as much as I complain about it, I’m better. Everywhere else, I’m the most fucked up, horrible—”

The cynic stopped talking when a hand grazed his shoulder, gripping it hard. “I don’t believe you,” Enjolras said, his voice like silk. When Grantaire looked up and saw his face, he no longer thought of Enj as man, but as a god. He was as beautiful as the god Apollo. “I may not have known you very long, Grantaire, but I know you well enough. You could never be a horrible person. You’re too much of a sweetheart.”

The compliment was foreign to R. Sweetheart? Him? 

“Flaws aside, you’re an amazing person. You’re a brilliant artist, you’re smart, you’re good with kids… and you’re beautiful. Absolutely frickin’ beautiful.”

Red filled Grantaire’s face as he blushed profusely. Enj laughed at the other man, and Apollo’s beautiful laugh made Taire chuckle, too. The two giggling boys continued to eat pizza and talk until one of the Éponine, who had more than likely stopped by to visit Gavroche before heading home, knocked on the door, which alerted Enjolras of the time. Somehow, he and Grantaire had managed to talk until past midnight. And he had class in the morning.

# ~

Gavroche was jumping up and down in his seat. Nothing could mask the excitement that had come with Éponine’s arrival that morning.

“What’s up, little man?” Grantaire asked as he walked into the common room the next morning. He felt fantastic; the night before he’d gotten over five solid hours of sleep, which was more continuous sleep than he’d gotten in five years. 

“We have some good news,” ‘Ponine said as she came up behind her bouncing brother. “I’m turning eighteen next week, which means I can legally become Gavroche’s guardian. And, if I can put together all the cash I’ve earned working my jobs, and can afford an apartment of my own, there’s a chance he might be getting out of here.”

The news hit Taire like a bomb. Sure, he hadn’t expected Gavroche to be locked in there forever, but he just couldn’t imagine life in there _without_ the kid. 

“Aw, are you going to miss me, R?” Gavroche grinned madly. “I’ll still come and visit. It’d be hell if I didn’t get to see you.”

Grantaire rumpled the boy’s hair. “I’m happy for you, little man. And you, Éponine.”

“Don’t get too happy yet. There’s still a ton of paperwork and tests I have to pass, but… it’s looking good. It really is.”

Éponine carefully watched Grantaire. “Why don’t you go write another letter to Enjolras, Gav? I’m working at Café Musain tonight, I can deliver it to him personally.”

With a slight nod and an understanding look in his eyes, the ten year-old made his way over to the table in the corner and pulled out a pen and paper. He may have been young, but he knew when people needed to be alone better than most adults.

“Any news on what happened the other night?”

R sighed. “They got the brain scan back, but they haven’t told me anything yet. Apparently, the brain waves look different if the person is suffering from a disease. Who knows what they’ll find in my brain?”

Éponine shrugged. “Over attraction to a certain male with long, blond hair and beautiful blue eyes?”

“ _Enjolras_.” Grantaire let the word slip off his tongue with true elegance; a perfect way to describe the man he was attracted to. “We had a date last night. Like, a _date_ date.”

“Yes, Taire, that’s what happens when two people like each other.”

He just sighed again.

“I gotta go, I might be late for my shift.” She patted his back, and pulled him into a hug. “Keep me informed, ‘kay? As your honorary best friend, I must insist.”

“Of course, ‘Ponine.”

“Mr… Grantaire?”

The painter turned around to see a doctor in a sterile white coat staring him down, his beady black eyes boring into Grantaire’s. 

“May I help you?” he demanded rather harshly as Éponine patted his back once more and scurried away.

“Hello, I’m Doctor Levine, the head of the neurological department,” the man said, straightening his bland-colored tie. “Is there a possibility I could speak with you in my office?”

Éponine, who had just barely been able to hear the conversation, gave him a look that said, “What the fuck are you waiting for?”

So, against all his better judgement, he went with the doctor.

Doctor Levine’s office was cold and clean, like everything in the hospital. The only hangings on the wall were of his various degrees and one of his children, he assumed. The way they stared out of the picture was quite unnerving, and it made R shiver.

“Grantaire, this is Officer Blanc,” Levine told him as a police officer sat down next to the cynic. “He’ll be observing our meeting for purposes of the law.”

“It’s because I’m being accused of crimes, isn’t it? Too afraid to be left alone with a felon?”

“Officer Blanc is here for federal purposes only. If I could talk to you alone, I would. Unfortunately, the law office insisted an officer come down.” He paused. “Your results came in yesterday, and I have both good and bad news. Which would you like to hear first?”

Taire thought for a moment. “Good.” 

“Well, the good news is that you’re not schizophrenic, like your friend Joly first thought. You do have high brain activity and, if we don’t find a way to stop your hallucinations soon, it may _lead_ to schizophrenia, but for now, it looks to be more along the lines of intrusive thoughts. That’s either because we caught it at an early stage, or you’re very, very stubborn and refuse to act upon the things those voices in your head tell you to do. From what you told the doctor who examined you, I’d assume it’s the latter.

“Now, for the bad news. Because I—or any doctor—am unable to diagnose you with schizophrenia, I’m afraid you won’t be able to stay here much longer. You have shown significant improvement from when you were first emitted years ago, and there doesn’t appear to be any reason for us to keep you in here. Unfortunately, when you are released, you’ll be escorted to prison for your actions that you’ve committed. You have a warrant for arrest, Mr. Grantaire. I’m afraid there is nothing I can do to prevent that. However, for your own peace of mind and to make sure that your intrusive thoughts can be exiled through medication or simply self-control, I can delay your release for a little while.”

“How long?”

“Two weeks, at the most.” 

Grantaire nodded, murmured, “Thank you, doc,” and left the office. And nobody—not the doctor, nor the officer—stopped him.

# ~

Three days passed without the new couple seeing each other face-to-face. They would occasionally send messages through Éponine, who was picking up more shifts at the Musain “purely for financial purposes” she claimed whenever either of them would ask, but she would also be grinning.

Grantaire didn’t inform anyone about what Levine had told him—not Joly, not Éponine, not Enjolras, not even his sister, who called in every once in a while. The news just rested in the pit of his stomach, each day becoming more of a threat.

On the third day after their pizza date, Éponine announced that Enjolras would be stopping by that evening to have dinner in the hospital’s cafeteria if Taire didn’t object. Grantaire laughed nervously when she declared this, but did not decline. As anxious as he was about the information that he held, he couldn’t wait to see his Apollo again.

That night, he waited in the common room wearing the best clothes he owned; which just happened to be a plain white shirt, black jeans, and a pair of Chuck Taylor’s he reserved for whenever he was released—or had someone important coming to visit him. He even brushed through his hair a few times, although that only seemed to make it angrier.

“You look nice,” Enjolras proclaimed when he arrived. 

“As do you.” 

Grantaire’s statement was true, because Enjolras always looked nice. His hair was always perfect with his flouncy blond curls curling down his back, finally resting above his elbows. R had never see it when it was not pulled back in a ponytail. Enj wore a black tee shirt, something new for him, with his red jacket draped over his shoulders and skinny jeans curving his legs. Grantaire stared longer than he probably should’ve.

“Shall we eat?”

“If that’s what you want to do.”

Enjolras smiled radiantly, his lips caressed with humor. “This is your date, too, not just mine.”

_Date_. It was a _date_. In that moment, all of Taire’s dating experience went out the window. Every date he’d ever been on—whether it be with a girl or a guy, at a restaurant or at a bar, in fancy clothing or in casual—was erased from his memory. His palms began sweating uncontrollably, and he felt like he had been forcefully dragged into a sauna.

“Grantaire.”

As his name gently rolled off of Enjolras’s tongue, his nerves began to calm. Enjolras was calm and casual, with a beam that lit up the entire room. He was strong, confident, and _beautiful._

“Right. Eating. That’s good.”

Apollo laughed, but didn’t reply. He just cautiously slipped his hand into Grantaire’s and started to lead him to the cafeteria.

The sweating was back.

Within the next few minutes, it had vanished again. Enjolras was charming and easy to talk to, and by the time they sat down with their food Enj was laughing at one of Taire’s dorky jokes. 

“If you’ll excuse me.” The leader stood up and swiftly headed toward the restroom, allowing Grantaire to examine how he walked. He was as strong as a tiger, his confidence pulsing through him and clear as day when he walked. 

When Taire turned back to his food, he saw that Enjolras had left his phone sitting on the table. He either forgot about it or trusted Grantaire. Nevertheless, R’s curiosity won out and his soft finger picked it up and turned it on. The lock screen was a picture of Enjolras, Courfeyrac, and another man Grantaire didn’t recognize.

A text appeared before he could even try and guess the password. 

**From: Bahorel  
party at the musain at midnight; bring ur hot ass boyfriend**

Grantaire’s toes curled up as his eyes scanned over the last word. Boyfriend. _Boyfriend_. Enjolras had a boyfriend? A _hot ass_ boyfriend? That word settled in his gut and exploded, spreading pain and betrayal throughout his entire body.

“Find anything interesting?” Enjolras asked as he sat back down, a grin still spread across his face. When he caught sight of Taire’s face, his face immediately fell. “Grantaire? Are you alright? You’re as white as a sheet.”

The cynic gingerly placed the phone back where it had been on the table, the perfect place for Enj to see it. Apollo quickly opened and read Bahorel’s text before looking up at Grantaire again.

“Bahorel has a flair for the dramatic,” Enjolras murmured, his cheeks going red against his will. “He doesn’t mean anything by it, he’s just a pain in the—”

“You have a boyfriend?”

After a moment to think about the other man’s statement, Enjolras smiled. “Oh, Grantaire… Bahorel was talking about you.” 

“M-Me?”

“Yeah. I, uh… I’ve never really _dated_ anyone else. Besides, Bahorel is never really serious… when he said ‘boyfriend’ he was simply talking about you, whom I’ve _gone on dates with_ , but we haven’t really established a relationship status or not—”

Taire’s raging grin caused Enj to fall silent.

“What?”

“You’re adorable when you’re rambling.” 

If there was any question Enjolras was blushing before, there wasn’t now. He hadn’t allowed himself to blush in several years, but something about Grantaire made him feel different.

“R, do you want to talk about it?”

“If… if you want to.” 

“It seems like a pretty simple conversation to me,” Enjolras said, taking the painter’s defined hand once again. “Grantaire, will you be my boyfriend?” 

Grantaire’s green eyes widened, but he didn’t hesitate as the word “yes” fell from between his lips. 

They smiled at each other for a long time, their eyes locked. Finally, Enjolras broke the silence.

“Do you want to come?”

“To what?”

“Bahorel’s text. There’s a party tonight, and I don’t know, it might be fun to go together. If you want.”

“I, uh, I don’t think we could get permission with this little notice. I’m not sure… maybe we could ask?”

Enjolras smiled. “Only if you want to go, I don’t want to force you into anything.”

“No, I want to go. Really.” Grantaire blinked back the worry that was surely clouding his face. “It sounds like fun. I just don’t know if my doctor will let me… or my parole officer.”

The leader sighed. “Oh, right. Then let’s ask.” 

Before Grantaire could protest—or even react—Enjolras was tugging on his hand, pulling him toward the mental ward. He didn’t go toward R’s normal doctor’s office, though, but instead to the head of the neurological department’s office. Enjolras knocked politely on the door, squeezing Taire’s hand. They were summoned inside.

Grantaire cursed as soon as he made eye contact with Levine. Inside his head, anyway. 

“Can I help you?”

Enjolras stopped forward and shook the man’s hand, releasing R’s in the process. “Hello, sir, my name is Enjolras. I’m Grantaire’s boyfriend.” He said it so proudly, like he was almost overexcited to claim the position of Taire’s boyfriend. “There’s an event tonight at a local café, the _Musain_ , and I was wondering if I could bring Grantaire. He hasn’t had the opportunity to meet my friends. Is there ay chance you could give him permission to leave for a few hours? It would mean a lot to me.”

Doctor Levine returned his gaze to Grantaire, raising his eyebrows. There was pity and sympathy in his eyes, and he glanced back at Enjolras. “I suppose it won’t be a problem. As long as you have him back by… nine tomorrow morning?”

“Oh.” Enjolras didn’t allow himself to blush, but Grantaire’s face was bright, bright red. Instead of protesting Levine’s very-obvious implication, Enj smiled and took Taire’s hand once more. “Thank you, Doctor,” the leader said as Levine began writing up a note. “Thank you so much.”

The sweat was back. Suddenly, R was so nervous about going outside of the hospital with _Enjolras_. He had no idea what could happen and it scared the living hell out of him.

“C’mon, Taire,” Enjolras said, his voice like silk as he took the slip of paper from the doctor. “Are you ready to go?”

“I… I should probably change my shirt, first.” He allowed Apollo to lead him out of the office. “I’ll be quick, just wait for me. Maybe text your friend… Bahorel, was it?”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.” Enjolras was the type of person who could tell when someone needed to be alone. He pulled out his phone as Grantaire walked back toward his room.

Every molecule in his body was shouting at him to turn around and say no. He really liked Enjolras, but he was afraid of what he could do if he were out there. Enjolras wouldn’t like him once he saw R drunk.

He quickly took off his old shirt that was stained from his various affairs. Quickly, he found a _Fall Out Boy_ shirt and pulled it over his head. Fall Out Boy made everything better.

With a deep breath, he walked back to where Enjolras was waiting for him. The angel beamed at him. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just a little… anxious, I guess.”

“It’s going to be fine, Grantaire. Trust me.” 

Taire interlaced their fingers and felt a calming sensation pulse spread throughout his body. “Always.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drinks, friends, and a surprising event... many things occur. ExR have a well-needed chat and share something special.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day! This chapter (more the end of this chapter, where the fluff happens) is dedicated to my beautiful girlfriend, jiuhuyyur.

Grantaire was shaking as they walked from the car to the café. It wasn’t a long walk, but enough to make his mind venture to every possible possibility of what could happen while meeting Enjolras’s friends. When they passed an alcohol store, he cringed. 

“It’s going to be okay,” Enjolras reassured him, gripping his hand tightly. It’s your night out of there. Enjoy it.” 

The cynic didn’t reply.

“Listen… I know you’re worried.”

“You don’t know what I can be like,” R whispered. “You don’t know how bad it is.”

“I’m willing to take that chance. I _like_ you, Grantaire. A lot. I want to get to know you, and not just the you inside that hospital. Everything will be fine. I don’t scare easily.”

Grantaire took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay. So, what are your friends like?” 

Enjolras smiled as he opened the door to the Musain. “They’re interesting people, I’ll say that. But I think you’ll find them easy to get along with.”

The first thing they saw when they entered was a big man, his muscles bulging through his shirt, standing on a table and hoisting a glass of some sort of drink. From just a glance, Grantaire knew it was beer.

“To love!” he shouted, pulling up a redheaded man to dance with him.

It was well after dark, but the café was filled with rather passionate young men and a few women scattered about. The people were rather diverse; there was the two men on the table, dancing and drinking; Courfeyrac was very blatantly hitting on a man with glasses in the corner—the same one that had been on Enjolras’s phone background. There were baristas still working, but most of them were just partying along with their customers.

“ _This_ ,” Enjolras said to Grantaire, turning his head to look at his boyfriend, “is Café Musain, the normal meeting place of Les Amis de l’ABC.”

Taire spotted Joly through the people, who was enthusiastically drinking and drunkenly dancing with a balding man. Éponine was working, and she was chatting easily with a freckle-faced man while sitting upon a table.

“Enjy!” the guy on the table proclaimed, his deep voice bellowing throughout the small café. He looked like a bodybuilder, had matted black hair flying everywhere, and seemed to be incredibly drunk. He jumped down from the table and walked over to them, catching the attention of many of the others.

“’ello,” he said, grinning madly at Taire. “You must be Grantaire. Man, have I heard a lot about you.”

“I hope I live up to your expectations.”

“Beyond them. I’m Bahorel, and that little shit with the ginger hair and scrawny body is Feuilly. Welcome to the party.”

“What exactly are we celebrating?” Enjolras asked, taking his jacket off. It was the first time Grantaire had seen the leader without a jacket, and somehow, he wasn’t surprised to see that Enjolras wore a long-sleeved shirt underneath it.

“We are rejoicing the fact that we can party when we like,” Bahorel answered, taking a swig of his drink. “And your boyfriend that we all agreed we wanted to meet.” 

Enj smiled. “Well, you’ve got him for the night. Don’t cause any damage.” He paused as Bahorel laughed. “C’mon, Taire, I’ll show you around.”

Throughout the next ten minutes, Grantaire met Enjolras’s best friend and the man Courfeyrac had been hitting on, Combeferre, the balding man dancing with Joly, Bossuet, their good friend, Musichetta, a sensual poet named Jehan, the freckled boy Éponine was talking with, Marius, and her off-and-on boyfriend, Montparnasse. It appeared at the moment they were currently off, because Éponine was very obviously displaying her cleavage to Marius. Everyone was nice to Grantaire, which was a relief. Things were going well until Bahorel offered him a drink.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Joly said, suddenly sobering up when Taire accepted.

“Let the man have a drink, Jolllly,” Bahorel complained, sending a shot of vodka toward R. “You’ve been drinking all night!”

Enjolras was frowning, but didn’t comment.

Grantaire took the shot, and the alcohol instantly washed away his fears. Still holding Enj’s hand, he began to relax a bit.

“You know the club downtown, Vagabonds?”

“I’ve been to it a few times, yeah,” Bahorel answered. “Why?”

“I hold the record there for the most shots consumed in one go. They know me by name over there.” 

“Whoa, dude. Ever been to that tavern up the road, Stoll?”

“It was the closest bar to my flat. I live less than a block away.” 

“You’d be close to where I live, then,” Bahorel replied, slapping his shouldering and sending another shot toward him. “That’s my _place_ , man. Feuilly and I have drained the place before. Honestly, Feuilly and I can drink any place down—whenever he isn’t too busy with school, that is. And hell, you should see Joly drink. He’s an unstoppable machine.”

Joly smiled.

“I’ve spent many nights with dear Joly, I’m well aware of his abilities.”

By then, the majority of the ABC had gathered around them. Everyone Grantaire had met… they were all laughing and drinking with him.

Except for Enjolras. Enjolras was quiet and sober.

“Tell us about your relationship with Enjolras, Grantaire,” Feuilly asked, his eyes wide and his voice slurred.

“Enjolras,” R said, standing up—although he didn’t remember sitting down—and taking both of Enj’s hands, “is the most beautiful, intelligent man I’ve ever met. I could have never asked for someone better to call my boyfriend. I’m so incredibly lucky.”

The leader blushed. “You’re drunk, Grantaire.”

“You said you wanted to get to know me better,” Taire removed his hands and wrapped his arms around Enjolras’s waist. “One thing you’ll need to know about me is that I can really handle my liquor. I still won’t be drunk if I have another four shots.” He turned his voice to the group, still gripping Enjolras’s waist and staring into his eyes. “As soon as I laid eyes on this very attractive man, I was very attracted to him. But I never thought he’d feel the same way.”

“Guess you were wrong, then.”

Courfeyrac was probably the most intrigued by their loving back-and-forth. He watched them with that fangirling look in his eyes, in which Combeferre snorted at.

“Guess I was. You can prove me wrong anytime, my angel.” 

“You’re definitely a little tipsy, Taire.”

“Maybe a little.” 

Bossuet interrupted their conversation by raising his glass and exclaiming, “To the ABC —the new friends as well as the old!”

“To the ABC!” the others echoed, raising a drink and taking a swig. Even Enjolras picked up a glass of whiskey and took a sip in the name of his organization. 

“I’ve never seen Enjolras look at anyone that way,” Combeferre told Courfeyrac just as Grantaire was passing by them later on during the night. He had drunken a lot, and he was pretty sure he wouldn’t remember their conversation later, but that didn’t stop him from listening to them.

“You’re right. It seems he has the hots for Grantaire.” 

Ferre frowned. “Please, Courfeyrac, I’m being serious. I just can’t figure out why he’d choose _Grantaire_ of all people to fall for. They’re so different…”

R wasn’t entirely sure how to take that. Yes, he knew they had a lot of differences…

“Firstly, my dear, Enjolras didn’t choose to be attracted to Grantaire. Most people don’t get to choose who they fall in love with.” Courf sounded oddly _angry_. It was probably just from how much he’d been drinking. “Secondly, maybe that’s why they both fell head over heels for each other—and yes, they both fell _head over heels_ for each other; if you think about what Grantaire was saying earlier, it sounded a helluva lot like what Enjolras said to us when he first admitted he liked Taire. 

“My point is that opposites attract. They’re totally different from each other, but they have definitely attracted. And I think that they’re doing good for each other.”

Grantaire pondered on that for a moment. For some reason, he couldn’t really believe that Enjolras had fallen head over heels for him, especially in that moment when the alcohol was raging through his brain and screwing with his emotions. He loved Enjolras. There was no doubt to his feelings. But, even as Courfeyrac and Combeferre spoke of how Enj loved Grantaire, he couldn’t really believe it.

His mind suddenly fogged, and he stopped listening to Courfeyrac and Combeferre. Paranoia grabbed him from behind, the alcohol rubbing against the edges of his brain.

“Grantaire?”

He barely registered that his name was being spoken. A soft hand put rubbed his shoulder. “Grantaire, are you okay?” It was Courfeyrac’s voice. He must’ve seen the painter and gotten up. “Grantaire, you’re as white as a sheet.”

“Drank too’uch,” R slurred. “Do you, um… feel’ike somethin’ bad’s bout to happen?” 

“What do you mean?”

“Dunno, jus feel’ike someone’s… coming.” 

Taire suddenly collapsed, but Courfeyrac was strong enough to keep him up. Courf may have been much shorter than him, but he was by far stronger.

“Grantaire!”

There was bugs crawling under his skin. He felt thousands of nasty insects climbing over and under him, their little legs stinging each part of his body.

“Joly! Joly, get over here _now_!” 

Grantaire saw his violently shaking hands, turning them over and over again but not finding any bugs. He felt them, though. They were there. Why the fuck couldn’t he see them?

Suddenly, he felt the presence of more people. He could just barely make out Joly’s sickly figure, and Enjolras behind him. Enjolras had come to see him… no. He didn’t want Enjolras to see him like this. Enjolras had to go away.

“Lay him down,” he heard Joly instruct, his doctor-voice bursting through his drunken state. “Somebody get him a glass of water, and someone else bring me a wet towel.” The medic returned his attention to Taire, whose body was now lying completely on the floor. “You must tell me everything you feel, Grantaire. Don’t leave out a single detail.”

“Bugs,” he hissed, his voice muffled and slurred. “S’many bugs.”

“Bugs? Like… insects?”

“Crawling under m’skin.”

Joly glanced back at Enjolras, who was watching concernedly from a distance. He had been instructed by Joly not to go near his boyfriend.

“Okay. What else?” 

“He said something about how someone was coming, and how something bad was about to happen,” Courfeyrac informed the nurse as he delivered a glass of water and a sopping towel. “I couldn’t make sense of it.”

The gears in Joly’s head were working really hard. That was one thing Grantaire noticed, even if his vision was blurry and he felt like throwing up and passing out. Suddenly, realization dawned on his friend’s face. 

“Holy shit.”

Enjolras’s eyes widened at Joly’s exclamation. “What? What is it?”

Joly ignored him. “Call 911. _Right now_.”

The urgency in his voice rattled Enj, and the leader instantly pulled out his cell phone and dialed 911. 

“Grantaire,” Joly murmured, rubbing his shoulder and tilting his head up so he could drink some water. “You’re in for a severely long night.”

# ~

Bahorel was feeling some serious remorse. 

Joly had refused to say whether Grantaire’s predicament was alcohol-related or not, but Bahorel assumed it was. He had just been excited to meet Enjolras’s boyfriend, and drunk on top of that.

“Dude, Joly said Grantaire will be fine. Stop moaning over it.”

Feuilly and Bahorel were lounging in the Musain, for they simply had nothing better to do. The café was mostly empty, as most of the local college kids had classes around that time of the day. Feuilly, Bahorel, Jehan (who was ordering an espresso), an older man, and the few baristas that were working were the only ones in the building. 

“Hey, boys,” Éponine said, coming up behind them and tying an apron around her waist. “Shouldn’t you be in class?”

“Shouldn’t _you_ be in class?” Bahorel snapped back. He was not in the mood for Éponine’s jeers.

“I thought I’d pick up an extra shift to boost my chances of getting Gavroche out of that fucking hospital. Any extra money helps. Besides, your classes cost money, mine don’t.”

“As it turns out, I don’t _have_ a class right now.” He shot the chuckling Feuilly a glare. “Actually, I had my last class for the day this morning.”

“Look who’s all high and mighty.”

“Oh, stop bantering, you too,” Jehan cut in, sitting down on the couch with his two other friends. “You’ll give me a headache.” 

Éponine huffed and went to go talk to another barista on duty, and Jehan smiled at Bahorel and Feuilly. “Any news on Grantaire?”

“Nothing since this morning,” Feuilly informed him. “But I haven’t seen anyone who would know since then.”

“I can’t imagine Enjolras is taking this all very well.”

“Well, I saw him on campus this morning,” Bahorel said. “He didn’t look _fantastic_ , but at least he’s at school and everything. Although I can’t imagine him ever missing a class, even if his boyfriend was hospital-bound.”

“I hate not knowing what’s going on,” Jehan murmured, twisting a lock of his long, auburn hair. “We may not have known him all that long, but Grantaire seems like a cool guy, and god knows he’s been good to Enjolras. I’m concerned about him.”

“We all are.”

“Does Enj know anything?” 

“If he does, he’s not sharing,” Combeferre said, sliding casually into the conversation. He was carrying a stack of books, and had obviously just gotten out of a class. “He hasn’t said nearly anything all day. He was quite in our social politics class, which is an incredibly rare event.”

Enjolras suddenly appeared by Ferre’s side, holding a latte in his left hand. His backpack was stuffed full with homework to do, and, in thinking about it, took the bag off and slammed it on the floor, slouching into the chair across from the overcrowded couch. He rubbed his eyes.

Before he could get a word out, his cell phone rang. Sighing heavily, he put it to his ear. “Hello? Joly! How is…? Yeah. No, I’m not busy, I can—oh, yes, sure. I’ll be over in a few minutes.”

Within the next minute, he had put away his phone, thrown away his latte, and rushed out the door, his backpack slung over his shoulder. Bahorel scratched his head.

“Well then. I think something’s up with Grantaire.” 

# ~

Joly brushed his fingers against his own wrist as thunder clapped outside to check his pulse. 

“You’re one weird guy,” Grantaire commented. “But you saved my life, so I guess I owe you one.”

“You own me nothing, Taire,” the medic insisted, sitting down on his friend’s hospital bed. He was still sporting his scrubs from work, having come up to Grantaire’s room after his shift in the mental ward. R was currently staying in the recovery wing, as he was trying to work off the sedatives the doctors had given him.

“Won’t you tell me what’s up, though? I mean, it’s _my_ body.”

“Your doctor confirmed a theory of mine and is graciously allowing me to tell you, but I want to wait until Enjolras gets here to announce it. It might be a little stressing for you, and I figured having him here would help.” 

Grantaire paled. “Enjolras is coming? When?”

“Now.” 

The beautiful man stood at the door of the hospital room, sweat dripping down the side of his face. It looked as if he’d run there, and, even in the cool October air, had overheated from the amount of clothing he wore. 

“You look better, Grantaire. How do you feel?”

“Like shit.”

“Respectively.” Joly stood up and smiled sadly. “You’re not schizophrenic, Grantaire. Nor are you going to be, more than likely. My theory ruled that out entirely.” 

“So… I’m _not_ hallucinating?”

“I didn’t quite say that.” He moved closer to Taire and felt his head. “But you are suffering from a serious medical disease, unfortunately. One I couldn’t wish upon my worst enemy.” 

“You don’t have any enemies.”

“Shut up, Grantaire,” Enjolras and Joly said in unison, allowing the nurse practitioner to continue.

“It would explain a lot of the symptoms you’ve been suffering from for so many years. Depression, insomnia, hallucinations… they all fall into the same category, I just hadn’t ever thought about it until last night, because those are few on a long list of symptoms. But it all clicked into place. Have you ever heard of Delirium Tremens?”

Taire shook his head.

“You might better know it as DTs.” 

The cynic made no indication that he’d understood what that was, so Joly continued.

“It’s a rather severe form of alcoholic withdrawals. What happened last night… has that ever happened to you before? Breaking down, feeling like you’re covered in bugs, shaking violently, seizing up a bit?” 

“Yeah, but… that’s a normal thing, right? Getting drunk?”

Joly sighed. “Not exactly. DTs causes seizures, like the one you had last night. You’re blood pressure and temperature was up, you were anxious, you were confused, you had a severe hallucination that insects were crawling under your skin—which is a surprisingly popular one among DTs victims—you’ve been depressed for years, you suffer from insomnia, and you haven’t had a great appetite as long as I’ve known you. All of those are symptoms of DTs.”

Enjolras sat down of the edge of Grantaire’s bed and reached out for his boyfriend’s hand. 

“You’ve probably been suffering from DTs for years and never had enough sense to go to the hospital.” He paused, letting the two internalized the information. “Grantaire? May I speak with you privately?”

The painter nodded, and Enjolras reluctantly got up and left the two of them alone in the hospital room.

“You haven’t told Enjolras about your predicament, have you?”

“Nope. You know about that?”

“We’re required to be up-to-date on our patients’ statuses, and technically you’re one of my patients. I was told the same day you were.” 

Grantaire nodded again. “I don’t know what to do, Joly. I think… I know that I’m in love with him. From the moment I saw him… I just knew. It was like nothing I’d ever felt before. God, that sounded so cheesy, but it’s the truth. I fell in love with him. He’s an angel. A loud, sometimes rude activist angel. And I afraid that if I tell him it’ll increase the potential of him finally thinking, ‘Why the fuck am I dating this piece of shit?’ and doing the responsible thing by leaving me. I’m just being selfish.”

“You don’t have much of a choice,” Joly said, blatantly ignoring his friend’s self-hating comment. Excluding the last two sentences, he thought that Taire’s love confession was the most adorable thing he’d ever heard. “You need to tell him. We treated your DTs using benzodiazepine, and fortunately, that sedation _saved your life,_ so unfortunately, we no longer have a reason to hold you, just like Levine told you. He’s doing everything he can to help your case, especially since he found out about Enjolras; the guy’s a sucker for romance.”

“What will telling him do?” R demanded, cynicism creeping into his voice. 

“It’ll save him from being surprised when you walk out of here in handcuffs? Who knows—he might even be able to help.” 

“Handcuffs?” Enj suddenly bursted through the door.

Joly mouthed a quick “sorry” to Grantaire before he left them to discuss things.

“He was speaking so loudly I could hear him from the other side of the door,” Enjolras quickly explained. “Now, tell me about the whole _walking out of here in handcuffs_.”

“How… how much did you hear?”

“Just the last comment. Now, please, I need an explanation.”

Grantaire grimaced. “Do you remember when we first met? I was talking to Éponine about how I got arrested and the police threw me in here? Well, uh, because the doctor _didn’t_ diagnose me with schizophrenia or any other severe mental disease, there wasn’t enough of a reason to keep me here. As soon as they officially release me, I’ll be carted off to jail. Even back before all this… they knew. The doctor told me a couple of days ago that there was no getting around it.” 

Enjolras was silent, processing the news carefully. “How long is your sentence?” 

“I… I don’t know, exactly. They’re not giving me a trial. As far as I know, it’s purely up to the police force.”

“That’s not just! It’s a part of the constitution that they have to give you a proper trial.”

R shrugged. “That’s never stopped them before.”

“Grantaire, we need to get you a trial. Just throwing you in prison without trying you is stupid and unjust. I won’t allow it.”

“Why? Enj… I’m guilty. I was caught red-handed with cocaine. Even if I wasn’t using it, I still had it in my possession.” 

“That still doesn’t give them the right to to deprive you of being tried.”

“I can’t even afford a lawyer, Enjolras!” It was the first time Grantaire had ever raised his voice when speaking to his boyfriend. Bt he couldn’t deal with Enjolras trying to shove hope upon him. “I can’t—I don’t have enough time—Jesus Christ!”

“It’s still early,” Enjolras said, keeping his voice calm. “I bet the police station is still open. If I left now I could go plead your case.” 

“They would just keep me locked up here until the trial! God-fucking-dammit, why can’t we just have a normal fucking relationship! Without mental hospitals and prisons and I’m so sorry and I don’t understand how you deal with me and my shit—”

“Grantaire.” The leader spoke incredibly softly for having a man yell at him. His eyes were glued to Taire’s, not wavering or even blinking, it seemed. They just stared at each other. “I chose you. I _chose_ you. _I chose you_. I knew all the issues and problems that came with you, but I still chose you. And I wouldn’t change that decision for the world. Sure, it’s a lot of trouble to drive to the hospital to see you and I hate not being able to see you as much as I like, but I still chose you. Seeing you hurt, seeing you hate on yourself, seeing you drink your way to death like you did last night. Yeah, that hurt me, but I still wouldn’t take back the fact that I chose you.

“We may never have a normal relationship, but what’s exciting about normal? I’ll stand by you through everything, and fight to keep you safe and with me. I’ll help you through every one of your vices, and I’ll fight through everything right by your side. We haven’t known each other long, but it feels like it’s been longer. I feel… really attached to you.” 

Grantaire’s hands had stopped shaking. He was completely still for the first time since Enjolras had met him.

“I love you.” 

Enj smiled, because, having lied to him before, Enjolras had heard everything Taire had said to Joly about him. He, very slowly, leaned down so he was on his knees, eye-level with the sitting Grantaire. His hands reached up to cup his boyfriend’s face, and he leaned into him, pressing his bright red lips to Grantaire’s chapped ones. 

They kissed, closed-mouthed, for a good ten seconds. It was awkward, as Enjolras had expected a first kiss to be, but when he pulled away, he whispered, just softly enough for R to here, “I know. I love you, too.”

Grantaire looked skeptical, but he smiled. “My god, your eyes are beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

“I could say the same about you.”

He was about to counter Enjolras’s statement, but Apollo stopped him. “You _are_ , Grantaire. At least to me.”

They interlaced their fingers, holding hands like a couple of idiots in love. 

“Am I interrupting something?”

Almost in sync, they looked up to see Joly standing at the door with a worried expression. Right behind him stood a man dressed in a police uniform.

“This is Mr. Javert, a sheriff’s deputy.” Enjolras’s expression fell sour upon Joly saying Javert’s name, and Grantaire paled. “He has asked to speak to you.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> R's sister, Geneviève, is introduced, as well as the Bahorel/Feuilly relationship. Enjolras asked Grantaire for a little bit of his history, and Grantaire (rather reluctantly) obliges.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm still not entirely sure where this is going or how long its going to be. I'm open to suggestions as to relationship drama and such! And also comments about my writing, positive or negative (I feel like I ask for this a lot, I'm sorry. I just want to know if I'm doing things right or not. Please don't feel pressured into doing so.)
> 
> Also, I do this thing on Tumblr where people send me the first line of a fic and I'll write something to it, if any of you Tumblr users are interested. You can submit them to my ask box, here: (http://cynical-taire.tumblr.com/ask).
> 
> Thanks :)

Combeferre rubbed his eyes.

“How are you feeling?” Courfeyrac asked, setting down a cup of hot chocolate on the table next to the couch, where Ferre was lounging. “Better, I hope?” 

“Moderately. It doesn’t matter, I’ve got to go to work this afternoon either way. You can’t talk me into taking a sick day.”

Courfeyrac snorted. “You’re such a stubborn ass.”

“Call me what you wish, I’m still going to work.”

The two friends were sitting in their shared apartment, alone except for the calm beagle in Combeferre’s lap. When they’d moved in together at the beginning of freshmen year, they decided to have an animal to keep in the apartment. Both Enjolras and Combeferre had wanted a cat, but Courf had, unfortunately or not, won that argument and persuaded them to buy an adorable little beagle. After a few days, both of the other men had adapted to the unusually quiet, calm dog, and they had started loving on him even more than Courfeyrac. Schrödinger—a name given to him by Enjolras and Combeferre since Courf got to get a dog—was always wherever the attention was focused in the apartment, whether that be in one of their bedrooms laying on one of their pillows, sitting upside-down on one of their laps on the couch, or even walking across their tables covered in books and homework to give them an extra companion to study with. He acted a lot like a cat, except he rarely got in bad moods and never refused a cuddle.

“Schrödinger agrees with me, don’t you?” Courfeyrac picked up the dog from Ferre’s lap and pressed their faces together. “Shouldn’t poor, sick daddy Combeferre stay home today?”

Schrödinger made a sound that resembled a purr in response.

“Courfeyrac, I don’t have much of a choice. Sick or not—which I’m not—I need the money or I won’t be able to pay the rent.”

“Well, you’ll have to get through me to get to work.” 

In a second, Combeferre stood up, towering over Courfeyrac. He was tall and muscular at 6’3”, and Courfeyrac, at a steady 5’8”, was much, much smaller than his friend. Courf folded his arms over his chest and grinned when Ferre began coughing so hard that he was forced to sit down again.

“I hate you.”

“I know.” Courfeyrac grabbed his coat and pranced toward the door. “I’m going to go pick up some dinner, tea, and cold medicine. Stay here or I swear to god I’ll kick your ass.”

He left without another word, leaving Combeferre to loathe him in peace. Ferre took out his laptop and began working on a paper for his social justice class. He wasn’t sure how much time passed, but when he looked up again, his other roommate was opening the front door.

“Hey.”

Enjolras raised his gaze, not expecting to hear Combeferre’s voice. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work? What are you still doing home?”

“Courf bullied me into staying here; I’ve got nasty cough.”

“He cares about you. Stop whining and accept it. Do you need some medicine or some herbal tea or anything?”

Combeferre shook his head. “Courfeyrac went out to get some things. He’s really good at taking care of people when they’re sick, I’ll give him that.”

“So you _are_ sick!” a voice from the door exclaimed. “Thank you for _finally_ admitting it.”

Enj took the drink tray from Courfeyrac’s hand and helped him in the apartment, noticing only two of the four drink slots occupied.

“Sorry, Enjy, I didn’t know what time you’d be home, and you didn’t answer your phone. I can go back—”

“No, it’s alright. I’ll make a sandwich or something for myself, we’ve got plenty of food in our refrigerator.”

Enjolras settled on the couch with a bottle of water from the fridge, Schrödinger immediately coming to his lap. The beagle loved him best, which was clear by the way he _always_ went toward the man whenever Enjolras was around.

“What’s going on with Grantaire?” Combeferre asked after a bout of nasty coughing. 

The blond’s face went bright red, but he answered without hesitance. “He’s doing okay. Apparently, he’s been suffering from Delirium Tremens, a severe type of alcoholic withdrawal—he’s had it for years without knowledge. It looks like they’ll release him from the hospital tomorrow, at the earliest.”

“That’s great!” Courfeyrac said.

“Not as great as it seems. Grantaire is under warrant for arrest for cocaine possession. Not use!” he added quickly at Courf’s shocked expression. “He was holding it for a friend of his —a dealer, no less. When the police came by after a call about a rugged-looking man smuggling something odd-looking into his flat. Now they’ve got it out for him, and they’ve refused to give him a trial. So, I had a nice _discussion_ with the deputy, and threatened to sue the fricking pants off of him and the entire station if they didn’t at least take it to the city court.”

“It really shouldn’t surprise me that you threatened the cops,” Courfeyrac muttered. “It’s not like you haven’t done it before.”

“The deputy told that he’d have a set trial by Monday, but he was kind of… sneering. Anyway, the hospital will release Grantaire on Saturday and he’s just going to be monitored by a parole officer until the trial.”

Combeferre bit his lip. “Enjolras… are you sure you’re doing the right thing by dating him? You practically just met him, and you don’t really know him that well.”

“He’s friends with Joly—”

“Because he was a patient at a mental hospital. I’m not trying to talk you out of anything, and Grantaire is a lovely person, but… are you sure you’re doing good for yourself? I saw his scars last night, and if he somehow inflicts depression or anything else he’s got going on on you…”

It took Enjolras a moment to realize what his best friend was saying. “Combeferre, do you really think that I’m ever one to self harm? I have no desire to inflict pain upon myself. I am perfectly aware of all of his vices, and I intend to help him more than anything.”

Courfeyrac smiled. “Honestly, Ferre, I know Grantaire quite well. He just had a screwed up childhood, okay—got into the wrong things, had some traumatic experiences, and found different ways to cope. Enjolras is strong enough to handle him, and just maybe fix him.”

“Well, I’m glad you found someone, Enjolras. You have been overly happy the last weeks, and… that’s good.”

The awkward tension was broken when broken by Courfeyrac taking Enj’s hands, causing the beagle in his lap to look up. “Grantaire’s not going to be locked up in there, though! That’s great news. I can’t wait to spend more time with him… I didn’t even know he was in town until you brought me to the hospital, Enjolras.”

Remembering quickly that Courf knew his boyfriend very well, Enjolras asked what R was like as a kid.

For some reason, Courfeyrac laughed. “Taire was a really fucked up kid, I’ll tell you that much. He wasn’t exactly popular. I mean, the kid’s never been _incredibly_ good looking, which is honestly what surprised me the most when I found out you guys were dating.”

“What do you mean? I think Grantaire’s very attractive.” 

“You’ve got a weird taste. But anyway, whether or not _you_ think he’s pretty, most of the kids at our school didn’t. He was the closest thing our school had to a street urchin, as we lived in a pretty well-off area, and most people didn’t respond well to that.”

“How come we never knew him, if we went to the same school and lived in the same city?” Combeferre asked, joining the conversation again with a questioning look.

“Most people didn’t like to talk about him. Everyone thought he was a bad luck charm or some shit like that. It’s not like he was _that_ noticeable, either. He mostly kept to himself, stayed in the back of the classroom, and, if he wasn’t running his smart ass mouth, was pretty quiet. Even if you had a class with him—which is unlikely, because you were both in high honors classes and Grantaire didn’t put enough effort into any of his work—there’s a good probability you wouldn’t have noticed him. I only had Phys Ed with him for a couple of years and one or two regular classes. Otherwise, we’d have never met.

“When we first started hanging out in P.E, he was pretty normal. Cynical as hell, but that was before his life turned for the worst. He was thicker around back then, he didn’t look tired all the time, and the only thing he was addicted to was video games. We had some great conversations whenever we would skip class—”

“Courfeyrac, when the _hell_ did you skip class?” Enjolras all-but growled.

“It was just Physical Education, and we didn’t _really_ skip. We’d just find a place on campus to play Pokemon on our Gameboys instead of being beat up in soccer _again_. I wasn’t too bad, but R was getting murdered out there.

“But all of that is besides the point. Grantaire was a really cool guy, even if we only hung out in school. If I’d had a chance to become better friends with him, I would have, but…” Courf licked his lips, his face twisted with pain from remembering his friend’s past. “Not long after we started high school, he started missing a lot of school. Whenever I’d ask him about it, he’d be oddly distant and try to divert the subject. 

“Then, he just stopped coming. One afternoon when the pair of you were studying for some class I wasn’t in, I made some lame ass excuse about my mom needing me home early and headed over to Grantaire’s house—which I’d never been to before, but I was really worried about the kid. When I got there, he was a mess. His eyes were sullen, his hair was long and scruffy, and he had lost at least fifteen pounds. The first thing he did was pull me into a tight hug, mumble something about how good I’d been to him, and then told me that he and his sister were moving. He didn’t say where, and I wasn’t quick enough to ask. His sister burst out of the house before I got a chance. She grabbed Grantaire’s upper arm and pulled him toward her car, telling me to go away. Not in a particularly harsh way, just… warning. I never did find out what exactly she warning me about; I just told Taire goodbye and left.”

Combeferre rumpled his own hair while simultaneously taking a tissue and blowing his nose. 

“Even before he left, though, he had a serious substance abuse problem. He started coming to school with alcohol on his breath in the middle of eighth grade, and he’d occasionally take a smoke while we were hiding out from gym. Never once did he try and offer me something, though—I asked once or twice, and he gave it to me then, but he didn’t initiate it. I think he understood how bad it was, but he was too addicted to try and give it up. The least he could do was not force it on someone else.”

“He’s been drinking since the _eighth grade_?” Enjolras asked, his eyes wide.

“More or less.”

Ferre rubbed his temples. “It’s getting late, guys. Do you mind if I go to bed?”

“Are you going to work in the morning?”

Before the man could answer, Courfeyrac interjected with a quick, “No!” before apologizing. “You’re too sick to go anywhere. Call in another day. I’m sure your boss will understand.”

Combeferre grumbled something about his boss using a strong choice word, but he allowed Courfeyrac to take his arm and lead him to his bedroom. He shut the door, leaving Courfeyrac in their common area.

“He would’t take care of himself if you didn’t do it for him,” Enjolras said lightly as he scratched Schrödinger’s ears.

“Aw, he’s just a stubborn prick sometimes. So are you, come to think of it.”

Enjolras let out a loose laugh and petted Schrödinger once again before heading to his room to take a shower. He bid his optimist roommate goodnight and shut his bedroom door.

# ~

“Hey, Courf, can you give me a lift to the hospital? My car’s in the shop.”

Courfeyrac glanced up from his morning coffee and yawned. “Mm? Yeah, sure. I’m just worried about leaving Ferre here alone in case he needs someone. I heard him vomiting last night, even if he won’t admit to it.”

Enjolras nodded. “Do you mind if I borrow your car, then?”

“Nah, I’ll go with you; Combeferre can withstand a few minutes without me. You’re going to need some moral support if they’re releasing Grantaire today. Besides, I’ve got to get out of this damn apartment. ”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” Courfeyrac shrugged on his jacket and started toward the door. His coffee sat forgotten on the kitchen table.

It wasn’t hard to locate Courfeyrac’s red mini-van. His mom had graciously given her old car to him when he moved out, seizing the opportunity to buy a nicer SUV. Courf didn’t mind too much; his mom was a sweet lady, and she hadn’t gotten a new car in years because of her three kids. He was the last of the bunch, and she deserved a reward for raising three rather wild children.

“I’ve always wondered how your car can be so clean but your room is so filthy,” Enj stated as he climbed in the passenger seat. It was true—the mini-van was practically spotless aside from a few textbooks thrown in the backseat. There were a couple stains on the carpeted seats from enduring three children over the years, but it wasn’t too bad.

Courfeyrac shrugged, and, after a pause while he started driving, asked, “Where is Grantaire staying once he’s released?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you going to offer to let him stay with us?”

Enjolras’s expression hardened. He had been sitting on that all night, and he couldn’t decide if it was the right thing to do or not. They’d just started dating, but if his boyfriend was left homeless…

“You know, you can be in the early stages of a relationship and still live under the same roof,” Courf told him with a raised eyebrow. “I mean, look at Feuilly and Bahorel.”

“Feuilly and Bahorel are dating?” 

“Yeah. Well, I think so, anyway. They’re acting oddly like a couple, and I’ve seen them kiss on multiple occasions… but not recently. I’m not sure. I swear to all things holy if you tell _anyone_ —”

“You have my word.” Enjolras paused, twiddling his thumbs. “Do you think he’d _want_ to live with us?”

Courfeyrac smiled. “You’ll have to ask him yourself.” 

They pulled into the hospital parking lot and were surprised to see Grantaire standing by the front door, fully clothed and with a bag at his side.

“Hey,” he said when Enjolras forced the car door open and jumped out. 

“You were released?”

Grantaire’s lips pulled tight into a worried grin. “Yeah. Joly told me this morning, and I signed all my release papers. I’m free.” 

Enjolras immediately pulled Grantaire into a tight embrace, nearly crushing his skinny body in the process. R laughed lightly, his smile wider than Courfeyrac had ever seen, even when they were teenagers. Courfeyrac got out of the car and wrapped his arms around the two, making it a group hug that Enjolras didn’t look so happy about.

“That’s fantastic news, Grantaire,” Enjolras said, pulling away from the embrace. “Courf and I were just coming to visit you but, considering the circumstances, it seems that won’t be necessary. Do you need a ride?”

“Um…” Taire’s cheeks colored as he shoved his hands in his jeans pocket. “No, my—”

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” 

A curvy, bouncy girl came bounding up to them, her bright green eyes—the same color as Grantaire’s—sparkling with enthusiasm. She was nearly a foot shorter than Grantaire, but that didn’t stop her from tousling his hair like he was a child.

“Who’re your friends, R?” she asked gently, turning toward Enjolras and Courfeyrac.

“Enjolras,” the leader stated curtly. 

The girl smiled even brighter. “ _Oh_! You’re at all what I was expecting when Taire told me about his _male acquaintance_ —” The way she worded it made it clear that she was dancing around the term boyfriend. “—I guess I was expecting someone less… angelic.”

At Enjolras’s shocked and slightly confused expression, Grantaire laughed and put his arm on the girl’s head. “Enj, this is my sister, Geneviève.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Courfeyrac grinned at this, the dazed look on his face turning into one of nostalgia. “Oh wow, I didn’t even recognize you. Granted, I only saw you once in passing, but you look a helluva lot different than I remember.”

“It’s Courfeyrac, right?”

Courf smiled. “The one and only.”

Geneviève chuckled and shoved Grantaire’s arm off of her. “Why don’t you go out with Enjolras before you come home? Based on the look on his face, too have a lot to talk about. Just meet me back at the apartment and remember—no drinking. Doc’s orders.”

With an equal amount of bounce in her step as before, she trotted back to her car, leaving the three younger boys alone.

“Well,” Courfeyrac said, “since I’m the only one here who has a car at the ready, may I escort the lovely couple somewhere?”

_~_

Nearly twenty minutes later, the couple was sitting at a table in the Musain, Courfeyrac having gone back to their apartment. It wasn’t far from their apartment, so he felt comfortable leaving Enjolras to walk home and Grantaire to get a ride from Geneviève.

“Your sister is… energetic.”

R laughed. “She’s not always like that, trust me. Gen’s the one who insisted I go to the mental hospital after we moved here. I knew she was right, and… well, I followed her advice.”

Enj took a long sip from his coffee to think on his boyfriend’s statement. “Grantaire?”

“Yes, my angel?”

“I’ve heard bits and pieces of your story—mostly from Éponine and Courfeyrac. Would you mind filling me in on the full story? I just want to get to know you better. You don’t necessarily have to give me the full story _today_ …”

Grantaire released a sigh, but asked, “Where do you want me to start?”

“How about what happened after you moved here? You said your sister pressured you into going to the hospital?” 

“She didn’t _pressure_ me, just… insisted upon it. And she was right to, I guess. I was a pretty fucked up kid. So, I got my GED and then checked myself in. Because they couldn’t really find anything wrong with me, after a few months they let me go. My sister offered to let me stay with her again, since I was only seventeen, but as I was only weeks from turning eighteen, I went ahead and bought my own apartment downtown.”

“You were eighteen? I thought you moved here at the end of your freshman year?” 

“Almost a year passed between the time we moved and I got my GED. It would’ve been about halfway through my junior year when I got my own place, if I’d still be in high school. Because of different reasons, I was a year behind in school. So yeah, I was about to turn eighteen, so I got a decent paying job at a local bar—the owner was kind enough to hire me just because I knew my way around drinks, even though I wasn’t technically of age—and occasionally volunteered at the library. I had been pretty stable mentally at the time, but within a year I was back in the hospital. From there on, I moved in and out on a monthly basis, it seemed. Every time I’d get settled back into my life again, I’d fuck up something and get thrown back in that hellhole. 

“I lost my job at the bar after a few months of this. Mendez, the owner, will still call me in whenever I’m out of the mental ward if he needs me to pick up a shift or something, but he couldn’t keep me full time anymore for obvious reasons. But because of my lack of income, I fell too far behind on my rent at my apartment and lost it just after I got arrested. Gen’s gonna let me stay at her place until I can get back on my feet again—or I get sent to jail.”

 Enjolras nodded. “She seems nice enough. Does she approve of your choice in liking men?”

“Well, she doesn’t disapprove. I think it surprised her a bit when I told her I was bi, but she got used to it as long as I promised her at least one niece or nephew, even if it’s adopted. Geneviève’s really big on kids.”

“I see.” 

Grantaire gave his boyfriend a smile. “Would it be too much to ask you for some of your backstory? You got very quiet the one time I asked you about your parents.” 

“I grew up with Courfeyrac and our friend Combeferre, and followed them to college here.”

R raised eyebrows skeptically. “Oh?”

“Speaking of which, I have a lot of studying to do. As much as I’d like to spend time with you, I’ve already gotten behind in two of my classes. I really need to get some work done this weekend. Do you mind if I head on home?”

“No, I suppose not.”

“Good.” Enjolras grabbed his coffee, stood up and kissed the still-sitting Grantaire on the forehead, and pushed his bangs out of his eyes. “I’ll see you later. Oh, and—” He slipped a piece of paper into Taire’s hand with a wink. “— _call me_.”

And he walked away with a little more strut in his step than was needed.

# ~

“Slow down, Courfeyrac. He _what_?”

Feuilly glanced at Bahorel, who had his phone pressed to his ear. The larger man was wrapped around Feuilly on their couch, the two of them intertwined together like they were on the many nights alone in their apartment.

“He ran out on me!” Feuilly heard Courfeyrac say through the phone. “I took twenty minutes to drive Enjolras to the hospital, and when I got back, Combeferre is fucking _gone_! Bahorel, he was as sick as a dog when I left him, there’s no _way_ being out in this cold will help him.”

“Maybe he just went to work, Courf.” 

“No, no, I called his work. They said he’d called in sick. I also tried calling his cell, but he left it at home.”

Bahorel sighed. “The guy’s pretty responsible, I’m sure he’ll be fine. It’s only been twenty minutes at the most, he couldn’t have gotten very far. If you can’t find him in fifteen minutes, give me a call, and Feuilly and I will head out. Alright?”

“Fine.”

The line cut, and Bahorel turned his attention back to Feuilly. “I just bought up twenty minutes to, uh… finish up.”

“As much as I love Combeferre, I’m glad you did that.” The ginger leaned up and pulled Bahorel’s lips to his. “I don’t like being interrupted, and, since we haven’t come out to our friends yet, we’re interrupted a lot.”

“Yeah, a fuck ton. Have you thought about telling them?”

“When the time is right.” 

Bahorel nodded. “I respect that. I respect _you._ ”

“I’m glad. Now kiss me, you fool.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Character development for Geneviève, Marius, Cosette, and Combeferre, who gets to the point in his sickness where Courfeyrac and Enjolras feel as though they have to call in reinforcements.

Geneviève stopped by to pick her younger brother up nearly an hour after she’d dropped him off. As he climbed in her car, he murmured, “Sorry, I was chatting with my friend, Éponine.”

“You have friends, R?”

“Shut up, Gen.” 

Her apartment wasn’t far from the Musain, but not a short enough distance that she had felt comfortable with him walking, especially with the weather the way it was. October in New England was no beach party.

“You’ll have to have Enjolras over for dinner sometime,” she said gently as she turned the steering wheel. “I’ve learned how to cook since you moved out.”

“I’m sure Enjy wouldn’t mind that.”

“Aw, you call him Enjy? I swear to god, that’s so fricking adorable.”

Grantaire sighed. “So what about you? Any new boyfriends or _male acquaintances_?”

She gave him her best death glare, followed by a chuckle, which quickly morphed into a serious expression. Gen gave so many different expressions in the course of five seconds that Grantaire’s head spun. “Actually…”

“What? You’ve got a gay side, too?”

“ _Please_. That’s one aspect we don’t share, little brother. But there is something you should know about me, while we’re on the subject of _male acquaintaces_ …”

She avoided the topic by getting out of the car at that moment; Grantaire hadn’t even realized they’d parked. He followed her up a flight of stairs and into her one-bedroom apartment.

“Finally moving out of this shithole?” he murmured upon seeing all of her things packed up in boxes, only the big furniture—like her mattress, couch, and kitchen appliances—was still there. 

She had bought the place so she could afford it with her minimum wage job and still have a place to sleep and for her younger brother, who was still in high school, to crash when he bothered to come home. Grantaire slept on the couch most nights, letting her have the torn-up mattress and the bedroom. It wasn’t much, and she’d tried to fix up the rattiness of it to make it more pleasing. Unfortunately, there just wasn’t much she could do.

“Yeah, I figured it was time. I have a better job now, and I can afford a better place. I thought I might expand to three bedrooms, or, if I can find one, a low-priced house.” 

“I think Enjolras’s building has three-bedroom apartments, if you’re interested. It might not hurt to talk to him.” He threw his bag in the corner and stretched out on the couch. “Why do you need three bedrooms anyway?” 

“Gen? Are you home?”

Grantaire immediately sat up at the tenor voice that echoed through the apartment. He looked up just in time to see a guy half-dressed in a business suit appear in the doorway to the bedroom. He looked to be a little older than Geneviève, maybe in his early thirties. His brown hair was cut short and there were glasses sitting atop his nose.

Honestly, he kind of reminded Grantaire of an older Combeferre.

“Is this him?” the man asked.

“Yeah. Grantaire, this is my fiancé, Sébastien.”

Sébastien held out his hand, and Grantaire shook it. “How goes it?”

“It… goes well.” Sébastien went over and gave Geneviève a hug, rubbing her stomach as he did so. Grantaire watched their every movement.

“You’re _pregnant_?”

Gen chuckled. “I guess I don’t look very pregnant, do I? Thank god and jesus in heaven for yoga pants.” She pulled up her shirt to reveal a very obvious bump in her stomach. “I’m six months tomorrow.”

“ _Six months_? Jesus Christ, you’d think you’d at least let your punk ass little brother you were gonna have a _baby_. And that you’re _engaged_.”

“I didn’t think you’d really care, R. Besides, you had enough shit going on at the time, I didn’t want to impose.”

Grantaire jumped up and came over to give her a big hug; as big as the skinny boy could manage. Gen laughed at her little brother when he engulfed Sebastian into the embrace, too.

“Dork face,” she muttered.

# ~

“Oh, c’mon, Enjolras, it’s eighty-three degrees in Florida right now. You’ve lived in the north you’re entire life, haven’t you ever wondered what a not-cold winter feels like?” 

Enjolras frowned. “I hate Florida. Besides, what are the odds of all of us being able to go away for an entire week?”

Jean Prouvaire, who was sitting on the opposite couch scribbling in his notebook, looked up at Enjolras, Joly, and Bossuet. Joly was sitting with his legs strewn over his boyfriend’s body, scowling deeply. After Jehan listened to their conversation for another moment, he spoke up. “Personally, I think getting away from home for a little while would do us all good. Especially after finals week.”

Both Enjolras’s and Joly’s expressions darkened, but Bossuet punched the air, accidentally knocking over a lamp as he did so. Joly immediately burst into laughter with his boyfriend blushing deeply as he picked it up. None of the baristas had rushed over, mostly because they all knew how coordinately challenged their coworker was.

“I still don’t think it’s a good idea,” Enjolras said, containing his laughter. “But you’re welcome to bring it up at the next meeting.”

“Speaking of the next meeting.” Jehan had thoroughly abandoned whatever he’d been writing, invested in the conversation by that point. “Are you going to bring Grantaire on Wednesday?”

Bahorel jumped over the couch, landing next to a rather startled Jehan. “Yeah, how is Taire? I heard he got released from the mental hospital yesterday.”

Enj pursed his lips. “He’s doing fine, as far as I know. His sister picked him up yesterday, and I haven’t seen him since, but he called me last night from his sister’s cell. He admitted he’d been really close to drink a few times, but he’s pushed through. As for the meeting, I was going to mention it when I next see him, but I’m not so sure he’ll want to go.”

“Why is that?” Bossuet asked.

It was Joly who responded. “Grantaire isn’t exactly what’d I call a social activist, to be completely frank with you. I’m sure he thinks some of our causes are worthy—particularly the ones concerning race, gender, and sexuality—but he’s not one to go protest or anything. I doubt he’ll have any desire to participate.”

“Twenty bucks he’ll be at the next meeting.”

Bossuet nodded. “You’re on, Bahorel. I’m taking Joly’s side on this one.” 

Enjolras sighed.

“So, does anyone care to fill me in on how Combeferre’s doing?” Jehan questioned, his eyes serene, but filled with concern.

“He’s still as sick as a dog,” the leader commented, twirling his long, blond hair with his thin finger. “Apparently, he went out to get some more cough medicine yesterday while Courf and I were out and gave Courfeyrac quite the scare.”

“Yes, I know.” Bahorel was scowling. “He called me freaking the fuck out at about eleven. About five minutes after that, I got an angry text about how Courfeyrac found Ferre at the drug store and yelled at him. The store manager kicked them both out, and the two got in a fight.” 

“Combeferre can put up quite a fight when he’s sick,” Enjolras groaned. “And Courfeyrac’s always loud. We got noise complaints from our neighbors, and I got a grand total of three hours of sleep when Combeferre finally got tired and gave up.”

Bossuet chuckled, which earned him a glare. “How do you live with them, Enj?”

“I have a _lot_ of patience.”

“I truly believe that.”

Enjolras picked at his cuticles, his eyes lowered. A soft hand tapped on his shoulder, and he turned in his seat.

“Hello, Cosette.”

Her bright smile warmed his insides; she had the ability to make anyone feel comfortable and joyous, even if they were in the grumpiest of moods. The leader made a mental note to invite her to the next Les Amis meeting.

“How are you today, Enjolras?” Cosette topped off his cup of tea, brushing her thin hands on her apron when she finished. 

“I’m well, thank you.” 

She stepped over Bahorel’s feet and took the plates that Joly and Bossuet had used for their breakfast, bidding them both good morning. It was clear she’d met—and remembered—the entire group, showing kindness and friendliness to each of them.

And they were kind and friendly right back. 

The door opened to the Musain swung open, a bell chiming. Courfeyrac and Marius strode in, carrying a couple of books each. Marius had stopped cold, staring at Cosette with an endearing look in his big, puppy dog eyes. 

“Hey, guys,” Courf murmured, throwing his books down on the table beside the couch. He collapsed halfway on top of Joly, halfway on top of Bossuet. Joly jumped from being unexpectedly touched, and Bossuet laughed.

“Get much sleep last night?”

“Fuck off.” 

Cosette smiled at Courfeyrac. “Can I get you something to drink, Courf?”

He gave her an equally warming beam and ordered a latte, slipping her a five-dollar bill.

Marius still hadn’t moved from the door, and he was blocking people from entering. His eyes followed Cosette’s movements.

“Does someone want to go fetch the puppy?” 

“Not particularly,” Enjolras muttered just as Bossuet dutifully got up and lured Marius over to the group. He was still in a daze, even though Bossuet kept speaking to him.

“ _She’s beautiful,_ ” he finally whispered. Each of the others followed his gaze to Cosette, who was carefully making a latte at the counter. Marius was gripping the belt loops on his jeans so tightly Bossuet was slightly afraid that he would rip them off. Courfeyrac made a move to disentangle the puppy’s hands from his jeans.

“Here you are, Courf.” Cosette handed Courfeyrac the warm cup, smiling brightly. She turned to the newcomer. Her face grew slightly red from blushing as she was taken aback by him. “Hello! I don’t believe we’ve met yet.”

She spoke to quickly, almost like she was nervous. Marius looked like he was going to pass out, and he didn’t make any indication that he was going to say anything.

“This is Marius,” Courfeyrac introduced him with a mischievous grin. “Marius Pontmercy. He’s a regular here, you just probably haven’t met him yet. School, you know?” 

Marius gave a slight wave, his hands trembling.

“I see. Well, Mr. Pontmercy, it was a pleasure to meet you.” She brushed her hand against her nose lightly. “That’s the end of my shift, boys. I’ll see you later.”

The group collectively groaned as one of their favorite baristas pulled off her apron and took off out the door, waving goodbye as she did so. 

As soon as she was out the door, Marius breathed deeply and buried his head in his hands, making a cry the sound of Bloody Mary murdering one of her victims. The noise caused half of the café to turn toward them, some with concern dancing in their eyes, some with anger. Enjolras groaned as Bossuet and Courfeyrac both leaped to shut Marius up.

“Is it my turn to take Marius home?” Bahorel asked in hushed tone. There were only a few members of the group that didn’t have a car, and Marius was one of them. Those with a vehicle offered to drive him often so he could avoid public transportation.

“Yes, I believe so. Either way, I have to go home and start on an essay for one of my classes tomorrow.” Joly tugged on his boyfriend’s hand to get him to his feet, and the two started for the parking lot. 

Bahorel followed them, dragging Marius along, who was still blushing and groaning. “See you lot on Wednesday.” 

Courfeyrac got up as well. “I should really be going, too. Combeferre’s at home alone, and… well, I don’t want to leave him alone, even if we are pissed at each other. He’s getting better, so there’s a good chance he’ll be back on his feet by tomorrow.” 

“I’ll go with you,” Enjolras said, standing and gathering his books.

Jehan was the only one remaining, still curled up on a chair with his notebook by his side, sipping a glass of herbal tea. “We don’t stay together for very long much anymore, do we? The only time a big group of us is together in a room for more than an hour is during meetings, which have gotten less and less frequent.”

“I wish there was something I could do, Jehan. I really do.” Enjolras wrapped his red scarf around his neck as he spoke. “School has gotten so busy…”

“Think about Florida, will you, Enj? It might be a good chance to bring us back together.” 

Enjolras nodded before bidding his friend goodbye and exiting Café Musain with Courfeyrac.

# ~

The Golden Trinity’s apartment was rather a mess when the two arrived, with torn up papers scattered everywhere and the trash bin knocked over. Schrödinger sat in the middle of the mess, his front paws over his ears.

“Schrödinger?” Enjolras had trained the beagle not to make messes in their apartment. He was, for all intents and purposes, a good dog. Never had he given his owners a problem before, even when he was a puppy. Enjolras couldn’t believe that Schrödinger had made that kind of mess.

Combeferre was lying on the couch with a damp towel on his head and a paper crumpled in his hand. Enjolras moved toward him cautiously, startling Schrödinger so much that the dog ran into Enjolras’s bedroom.

“Hey, Ferre?” Enjolras was quiet, but made sure he was loud enough for his roommate to hear him. “You… okay?” 

“No.”

“I’m assuming Schrödinger didn’t make this mess?”

“Schrödinger didn’t make this mess.” 

“Combeferre, will you please open your eyes and tell us something?”

He sat up and looked directly at Courfeyrac, who had last spoken. His eyes were red. “I was looking for a paper from my Social Law class, and I… got it everywhere. When I tried to clean it up, my sinuses started hurting so much that I thought I was dying.”

Enjolras and Courfeyrac exchanged a look. Combeferre tried to ease himself up but started coughing so bad that he was forced to lay back down. 

“I think it’s time to call in reinforcements,” Courfeyrac whispered to Enjolras. In return, Enj nodded, silently agreeing.

~

Grantaire stretched out on the couch carefully, waking peacefully. He immediately searched for a bottle on the ottoman, and sighed when he found the table empty. There was a little smiling face staring up at him, though, with crooked teeth and matted blond hair that feel to his shoulders.

“Gavroche!” Grantaire sat up immediately and caged the boy in a hug. “What’re you doing here, kid?” 

Éponine was grinning slyly from the armchair, a pair of glasses on her nose and a book in her hand. Geneviève stood right beside her, rubbing her bloated stomach casually.

“He’s not released yet, but he is out for the day. Nearly the first thing he said was ‘I wanna go see R and Enjolras!’ I knew you were holed up with your sister, whom I got to know well from our many chats in the hospital, so I called her up. Gen thought it’d be a nice surprise for you to see Gavroche.” 

“A nice surprise, indeed.” Grantaire ruffled the boy’s hair. “So, you want to go see Enjy, too?”

“Definitely.”

“Let’s head out.” 

Taire, in his sweatpants and an old, crusty tee shirt, pushed himself up, slipped on his Chuck Taylor’s, and pulled on his hoodie. Putting her glasses into her bag, Éponine got up and tugged on her sweater. 

“Should you maybe call Enjolras first?” she asked as the three—leaving Geneviève behind to stay in with Sébastien—started out the door. “More than likely, he won’t be happy to have a ten-year old come into his apartment at nine in the morning.”

“He’ll be delighted. And if he’s not, too bad.”

It wasn’t that far of a distance to Enjolras’s complex, which Grantaire had admittedly never been to, but Gavroche and Éponine would’ve had to walk anyway, as ‘Ponine lacked a car. Gavroche was bouncing up an down, grateful for being outside for the first time in a long time.

After climbing three sets of stairs, Grantaire knocked gingerly on the door to Enjolras’s flat. There was a slight delay, but finally Courfeyrac cracked the door open.

“Hello, Taire,” Courfeyrac said with a smile. “And lookie, it’s the Thénardiers! I would invite you in, but our apartment is kind of… well, _crowded_.”

The painter crinkled his nose. “Crowded?” 

A voice suddenly called from inside. “Who’s at the door, Courfeyrac?”

Gavroche pushed through Grantaire and Éponine to see inside to find Combeferre lying on the couch with a thermometer protruding from his mouth, Enjolras sitting on the kitchen counter in his pajamas, and a tall man bustling about wearing an apron around his waist. 

Éponine stepped inside the apartment, amused by Courfeyrac’s uneasiness. Grantaire, on the other hand, was equally uneasy. The man looked up at them and smiled gently. 

“Hello. Are you friends with my boys?”

When neither of them responded, Enjolras spoke up from the kitchen. “This is Grantaire, Éponine, and the little boy—”

“I’m really not that little.”

“—is Gavroche.”

A sudden understanding washed over his face. The beam returned just as quickly as it left. “I see. Well, Mr. Grantaire, I’ve heard a lot about you from Enjolras. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I'm Justine, Combeferre's father.”

Justine held out his hand for Taire, and the cynic hastily shook it. He was still deeply unsettled, but was calm about it. 

Éponine practically shoved Grantaire out of way to shake Justine's hand. “Hello, sir. Éponine Thénardier, and my baby brother, Gavroche.”

“Good to meet you.”

“Anyway.” Enjolras cleared his throat and jumped down from he counter. “I assume we’re taking Gavroche out today?”

“If you want.”

Grantaire's voice was still off, but Enjolras ignored it. “I do. Just let me get changed.”

Enj turned toward his bedroom, slipping his hand into Grantaire’s and pulling his boyfriend along with him, easing the door shut behind them.

His face fell as soon as they were alone. “What's wrong?”

R was mildly shocked at how quickly Enjolras's expression and entire demeanor had changed, but answered nonetheless. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“Okay, I’m calling bullshit. There was something going on in there, and you very well know it.”

“Justine.”

“What about Justine?”

“I just… I recognized him from back home. That’s all.”

Enjolras pursed his lips. “Fine.”

He snagged a pair of folded jeans and a shirt from his closet before striding delicately into the bathroom and closing the door. Grantaire rolled his eyes and started to return to his usual self. “You know you could’ve just changed in front of me, right? It’s not like I’ve never seen man partially naked before.”

The blond didn't respond. 

“Then again, the last time I saw another man partially naked I—”

“Don't finish that statement.” Enjolras emerged from the bathroom, fully clothed aside from his red jacket, which was draped over his desk chair. He plucked it up and instantly shrugged it on. “Are you ready to go?”

Grantaire grinned. “Yeah, just let me go get the little squirt. Where are we going?”

“The Musain?” 

“Do you really want to take _Gavroche there_?”

Enjolras shook his head, chuckling. “He’ll be fine. Go get him, I will find some shoes.”

“Are you sure you're cool leaving Combeferre?”

“I’m just eager to get out of the house. I love Justine and all, I mean, the guy helped raise me, but between a whiny Combeferre, an equally amused and uneasy Courfeyrac, and Justine’s care… I need to get out for a few hours.”

R nodded, and leaned in to give Enjolras a kiss on he cheek. Red washed over both of their faces at the action, but neither protested it. In fact, Enj took Grantaire’s hand and pressed his lips onto the back of his palm carefully, which put a grin on Taire’s face that stuck in the leader’s mind for hours afterward.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire and Enjolras take Gavroche out for the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo! Sorry I haven't been updating lately, I've been struggling a lot with continuing this story. I have a general idea of where I want this to go, but I'm having trouble getting it there. This chapter is rather short, compared to some of my others. Many apologies. If you have any suggestions for me, I'd very much appreciate it, as well as comments/concerns. Thank you!

“Gavroche, wait!”

Grantaire and Enjolras were sprinting to keep up with the boy as he ran through the streets, dodging people left and right. Enjolras’s car was still in the shop, so they had to walk to the Musain, but that didn’t seem to both Gavroche one bit. 

“If you get hit by a car Éponine will have my head on a silver platter!”

“If she finds out you _got away_ she’ll have both of our heads on a silver platter!”

None of the men’s shouting as much as slowed the sucker down. He barreled right into Café Musain, crashing into the couch. Enjolras and Grantaire rushed in after, nearly running into a startled Jehan. 

“Good evening, Enjolras. Grantaire. Is he yours today?”

Enjolras sighed. “Fortunately or not. Éponine is spending the day with Marius, which she informed us after she showed up at Grantaire’s sister’s apartment, came over to my flat, and let us take Gavroche.”

“So, she basically ditched you?”

Grantaire smiled and sat next to Gavroche on the couch. “I like you, Jehan.”

“Honestly, I’m a bit surprised you remembered my name. You were whisked away awfully fast by Bahorel that evening that we met. But I’m flattered nonetheless.”

“I’m actually surprisingly good at recalling names and faces. Even if I only met someone once for a few seconds, if I know their name and their face I can usually connect them.”

Jehan smiled. “That’s a good skill to have.”

“Would you like something to drink, Grantaire?”

Enjolras’s question made R’s heart stop. The words he wanted to say were on his lips, but he forced himself to say, “A coffee would be nice. I was awaken rather early this morning by this dork.”

The squeal that came from Gavroche when Grantaire ruffled his hair caused the people around them to look over, but not dwell. Enj nodded and went over to order from Bossuet, who was working the counter. 

“You're the fruity poet, right?”

Gav’s question made Jehan tense up, but then release a laugh. “Yes, I suppose I can be fruity sometimes. My name is Jehan Prouvaire, if you have any desire to call me by my actual name.”

“‘If’ is a mighty big short word, Prouvaire.”

Enjolras came back with three drinks, as Jehan had already gotten one. He passed one to little Gavroche, and one to Grantaire, whose hands were violently shaking at that point. R took a long sip of his coffee.

“Did you ask Grantaire about the meeting, yet?” Jehan asked Enjolras with a monotone voice.

“What meeting?”

“Ah. I see.”

Enjolras cleared his throat and turned to Grantaire, shooting a glare Jehan’s way quickly. “You know about Les Amis de l’ABC, correct?”

“I’m aware of its existence, yes.”

“Well, we’ve arranged for a meeting this coming Wednesday, and, well, you’ve become quite popular in our group. I was wondering if you would like to accompany me. On Wednesday. To the meeting.”

Grantaire sighed and looked at Gavroche, who gave him a nod. “Activism isn’t really my thing. But I suppose it couldn’t hurt to at least _accompany_ you…” 

“Oh, goody.” Prouvaire made a sound of endearment. “I always love adding someone new into the mix. Especially Enjolras’s _boyfriend_ …”

“Yeah, alright, I got it. Now, c’mon, Grantaire.”

The painter blinked as he was pulled to his feet by two blonds, one a boy and one an angel. “Where are we going?”

“To the park. I’d love to get out of here before fruity poet over there—” Enjolras gave Taire a smirk, his eyes gleaming. “—gets his panties in a twist.”  
 

# ~

“You’re not seriously going to answer that, are you?”

Feuilly was pinned down by Bahorel’s huge body when the ginger decided to pick up his ringing cell phone. The door to their apartment was locked, as it usually was on the Thursday afternoon when neither of them had class. 

“It could be something important,” Feuilly argued, his bright eyes attacked Bahorel with their intensity. “What if one of our friends is dead on the side of the road somewhere? And the police decided to call me to come and identify the body?”

Bahorel buried his head in Feuilly’s neck. “I’d tell them to go fuck themselves. This is the only real time I get alone with you all week.”

“You’re such a hopeless romantic. For a bodybuilder.” Feuilly answered the phone. “Hello?”

“There’s a protest going on at the library. We need you and Bahorel there, because Combeferre is sick and nobody wants to pull Enjolras away from Grantaire. Any back up we can get would be great.”

“Is this really necessary, Courf?”

“Yes, yes it is. Please. We think its about the library getting torn down.” 

Feuilly paused for a second, looking directly at Bahorel’s lips. He sighed. “Fine. We’re on our way now.”

The phone clicked. Bahorel groaned.

“I hate to cut our session short, but we’re needed on campus. That was Courfeyrac. Said there was a protest.” 

“Feuill-l-l-ly!”

“C’mon. I’ll skip class tonight so we can fuck, if you want.” 

Bahorel sighed. “Fine. But it better be good.”

The two lazily made themselves more presentable before heading down to Bahorel’s car in the apartment’s lot. The drive over to their college campus was silent as they slowly started entering the mentality of being friends rather than boyfriends.

“Feuilly?” 

“Yeah?” 

“When are we going to tell them?”

The light in Feuilly’s eyes flickered, hesitancy overcoming his body. “I’m… I’m sorry, Bahorel. Not yet.”

“Why not?” Bahorel knew why. But he still felt the need to ask.

“I’m just… not ready.”

The bigger man kissed Feuilly’s temple. “I’ll respect that. Forever and ever.” 

# ~

“Fucking Christ, this child is going to be the death of me.”

Grantaire was allowing himself to be pulled by Gavroche through the city at a sprinting pace. Enjolras followed them with a smug smile on his face.

“You know, Gav, we have to go back eventually. Roaming around the city isn't a way to avoid your problems.”

“We're not _roaming_. We're taking a field trip.”

“That doesn't make me feel any more comfortable.”

Enjolras gave Grantaire's shoulder a reassuring squeeze and pushed him forward towards Gavroche, keeping him in check with the child. If Gavroche hadn't been living on the streets when he was a child, Enjolras would've said that the ten-year old boy just wanted to see the city before he got shoved back in that box again, but that was, unfortunately, not the case.

“We're almost there, boys. Just give it a minute.”

While on the move, Enjolras took a moment to examine Grantaire. He seemed happy, for the most part, even a little bit healthier. His body was still a little too skinny and his eyes were a little too sullen for Enj's taste, but he _did_ look better. Every once in awhile he'd fidget or make an unnecessary movement, which essentially concerned Enjolras, but it was better than he had imagined.

His black, curly hair was a mess from sleep, even though it probably would have been a mess if he _hadn't_ been awoken by two unexpected guests that morning. He'd let his beard grow out more, but more than likely it was because he just didn't have the motive or energy to shave. Even though he was thin, he did look a little fuller than he had when they had last met, and Enjolras would be sure to thank Marcelle later, because he was sure she had had a hand in taking care of Grantaire.

Gavroche finally stopped in front of inn on the more rugged side of town. He released Grantaire's hand and let out a great sigh. "Is there any chance you ladies are going to let me go inside alone?"

“Not a chance,” Enjolras told him with a smile.

Rolling his eyes, the boy sucked in a breath and pushed the door to the inn open, trotting inside. Grantaire exchanged a glance with Enjolras before following him in.

The inside of the inn was worn down and beaten up, but the woman at the counter was dressed fairly nicely. Her skin was worn and her stringy blond hair was tied up in a bun atop her head. She had an mischievous twist to her smile, kind of like Grantaire's but filled with a little more… evil.

She wasn't looking at them, though, and it was the man whose attention was caught by them. His clothing was a little more run-down than hers, but he smoothed out what was obviously a wig and came up to them.

“How may I help yo' this evenin’?” he asked, his voice slurred and smelling very strongly of alcohol. Grantaire immediately took a step back.

The woman turned toward the man's voice. “Don't you recognize him, you bloody fool?”

His expression turned sour as he heard the distaste in her voice. “Should I?”

She stepped forward and curtsied gently to Enjolras and Grantaire, adverting her eyes from Gavroche. “‘Ello, boys. I am Madame Thénardier.”

Enjolras's eyes widened, and Grantaire instantly reached forward to grip Gavroche's shoulders.

“Is there anything I can offer you boys tonight? A bottle, a meal…" She came very close to Enjolras as she murmured the next words seductively. “... a _room_?”

The leader's hardened expression had not wavered. “No, Madame. I'm Enjolras, this is my _boyfriend_ , Grantaire. We're friends of Éponine and Gavroche.”

Madame Thénardier rolled her eyes and her sensually facade faded. “ _Oh_. You're some of the boys my bitch has gotten herself involved with. Well, isn't that great? Now, what can I do for you?”

“Firstly, you can give me back my watch. That's my favorite. Secondly, you could address your son once, seeing as he brought us here.”

Gavroche didn't look like he wanted to be addressed by his mother and what Enjolras assumed to be his father. He was frowning at the floor, clutching a piece of paper in his small fist.

“If you're going to bother me with my children, it's best you just leave.” She grudgingly handed the blond man back his wristwatch. “I have better ways I can be spending my time.”

Enjolras glowered, but it was Grantaire who spoke next. "We came to talk about Gavroche's legal guardianship. As you may or may not know, he's been spending his time in the mental institute a little ways from here. He's not really _sick_ , and we think it might be best if his legal guardian becomes Éponine. She's turning eighteen in a few days, and—“

“That bitch can have our brat if she wants,” the man in the corner growled. “He was never a concern of ours.”

“Great.” Taire reached down and took a paper from Gavroche. “Then could you sign this? The both of you?”

How Gavroche had gotten his hands on a form that could switch his legal guardianship to Éponine when she became legal age, Enjolras didn't know—nor did he particularly want to know. 

Monsieur and Madame Thénardier both took a pen and signed the form without a second thought. “Now clear out,” Monsieur Thénardier hissed. “And don't let me find out that the police followed you, or I will sick some of my _buddies_ on you. Hear?”

The two older men nodded, took the form back, and steered Gavroche out of there. Grantaire released a breath once they made it outside and started walking back toward the Musain. 

“What the hell, Gav? A little warning next time?”

“You didn't have to come with me,” Gavroche murmured as he pushed some of his messy blond hair back. “But I suppose I could have told you to leave your valuables with Prouvaire. Check your pockets.”

“I'm missing my cell phone,” Enjolras realized. Just as he began to turn back, Gavroche held up his phone and chuckled. Enj snatched it. 

“All I wanted to do was help ‘Ponine.”

Grantaire sank down to one knee so he was eye level with Gavroche. “That was a nice gesture, dude. But I never want you going back there, okay? Promise me you'll never go back to that goddamn inn.”

“I promise, R.”

“Good. Alright, now, c'mon. I'm calling 'Ponine to come get you so you can spend some time with your sister.”

# ~

“Dude, this is crazy! Why didn't you call Enjolras?”

Bahorel, Feuilly, and Courfeyrac stood away from an angry protest, observing it. It was a large group, sitting down at the front of the admissions office with posters, furious voices, and enough people to completely barricade the door. Sit-ins were one of Courfeyrac's favorite kinds of protests.

“I'm going to as soon as I find out what's going on. Nobody's told me yet, but damn... it looks like something horrible.”

“You haven't heard?” Joly and Bossuet showed up next to them, each of them with well-painted signs.

Courfeyrac shook his head. 

“A transgender law student was discriminated against in more than one of her classes. By the _professors_. She failed almost every one of her classes when she did her work perfectly. Bossuet knew her well, actually, he said she was a perfect student.”

Courfeyrac nodded violently. “Did they kick her out?”

Bossuet nodded furiously.

“Gimme that sign. I've got some protesting to do.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire bonds with Feuilly. Enjolras and Grantaire spend some time in bed together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I've been having pretty severe health problems and have been on several different medications to try and fix this. I have a lot more free time now since all of this is starting to be resolved, and I look forward to continuing this fic!
> 
> Thanks for your patience, guys!

The Musain was bustling on that Wednesday evening with students, all gathered to either join in or watch the meeting held by the infamous activist group. Enjolras was at the center of the activity, his vibrant red sweater making him stand out. Grantaire watched from the corner of the room, sipping on a glass of water.

“—so upset with the school,” Courfeyrac was complaining, his think eyebrows furrowed together. “They can’t just mess with someone’s academic career like that just because she doesn’t identify with the gender she was born as.”

Jehan was shaking his head. “I _personally_ won’t allow it.”

“At least she’s got a lot of support.” Joly was sitting on Bossuet’s lap with an expression of concern talking about the oppressed transgender student. “That protest was absolutely insane, and there have been several comparable ones since then. As far as I know, none of that has affected the situation, though.”

Enjolras swore loudly, which wasn’t shocking to anyone in the room. He was generally a very sophisticated person, but even the most sophisticated of people swear when they get angry.

The room broke into separate conversations, still with Enjolras in the middle of everything and talking to several people at once. Grantaire sighed and took another sip of his water, making a face with it. His hands were shaking, but he stifled them by rubbing his palms on his jeans. 

Suddenly, the door busted open and Bahorel—who had been absent from the meeting until that moment—stumbled into the room with a panicked expression. His voice was unsteady and loud when he shouted, “Is Feuilly here?”

Courfeyrac poked his head out of the crowd of people, frowning. “I thought he was with you.”

“No, he left about twenty minutes ago without saying anything. We… We were arguing, and he just left… I assumed he came here. He won’t answer his phone.”

The low murmur of the room had died, and everyone was focusing on the conversation between the two. Enjolras’s expression had gone from frustrated about the transgender case to concern for his friend. “What were you guys arguing about?”

“Doesn’t matter. He’s gone, that’s all that matters.”

Enj nodded. “All right, search party time. Feuilly can most definitely care for himself, but it’s better not to leave him wandering out alone in the cold. Bahorel, you go with Joly, Bossuet, and Jehan. Éponine, Marius, and Musichetta, so that leaves Combeferre and Courfeyrac with me.”

Everyone nodded and dispersed quickly, grabbing coats, scarves, and other outer wear on the way out to go find their friend. Grantaire watched them leave, a slight panic settling within him that Enjolras had seemed to forget about him. Another quick swig of water and he was pulling his hoodie on and trudging out into the blistering Massachusetts snow.

The ginger, he kept reminding himself as he scanned the streets for a sign of Feuilly. He also kept asking himself where he would go if he fought with someone that he surly acted like he liked in a romantic way, even if they were just platonic. Probably a bar.

Which gave him an idea.

He smiled at the bartender as he strolled into the bar closest to the Musain, sitting himself down next to a very disconcerted redhead. The strong smell of scotch hit him like a brick, but he kept himself composed.

“Grantaire?” Feuilly asked when he turned to see who was sitting next to him. “What are—you shouldn’t be here, you just got out of the hospital.”

“Eh, I’ll be fine.” He did his best to hide his violently-shaking hands under the table. “Everyone was worrying about where you’d gone off to. Apparently you and your bodybuilder of a roommate had a fight and you walked out and so Bahorel got super panicked and stuff… or at least that’s the way I heard it.”

The ginger took a quick drink and slammed the glass on the bar. “Serves him right… worry about me a little bit.”

“I don’t mean to pry or anything, but you seriously sound like you need a drinking buddy or something. Here.” He waved to the bartender, who grinned at him and began fixing a drink. While Feuilly was distracted by that, Grantaire slipped his phone out of his pocket and considered texting Enjolras. He finally put it away, and took the glass of red wine the bartender brought him, thanking her. The glass was raised, and he said to Feuilly, “To the woes of friendship.”

Feuilly raised his eyebrow, but before he could say something about Grantaire drinking, the cynic took a large gulp of the wine, ravishing in the sensation and taste of his favorite drink. Feuilly made a ‘fuck it’ expression and drank more of the whiskey in front of him.

“You know, I dunno how you do it.” Taire was purposely slurring his words and acting drunk to try and fool Feuilly a little bit, something he would surely regret later. But it didn’t matter; the ginger was far too wasted to see past R’s bad façade.

“Do what?”

“Live with a guy who is as hot as Bahorel and _not_ be all over him. Like, damn, if I were in your place I’d be all over that.”

“What about Enj?” 

The kid wasn’t as wasted as Grantaire had thought, as he still managed to poke holes in his foolery. What he was about to say—although it was a total lie—was going to bite him in the ass later, and he knew it. “Just because I’m with Enjolras doesn’t mean I can’t acknowledge the attractiveness of other people. And Bahorel has got it going on.”

“Yeah. I like it when he’s inside of me.”

R choked on his wine, but composed himself quickly. “You guys fuck?”

“Every now and then, yeah. We have a good relationship, he and I, but we can’t tell anyone because my aunt would cut off my monthly funding if she found out I was gay… or whatever I am.”

Grantaire patted his shoulder. “I understand, dude. My dad wasn’t too happy when he found out either, but these are things you’ve gotta live with. There will always be someone who accepts you, like your friends.”

“Who was it for you?”

“My older sister. When I was a kid, things in my house got really bad after my mom passed… and I just became rebellious, and I let my dad know about it. The guy was an abusive asshole, but the fact that I liked guys really pushed it for him. Gen saved us, and we were able to clear out and start our own lives. She’s always been supportive of me. Hell, she was the one who really suggested I go to that hospital.”

Feuilly gave him a weak smile. “I’m glad someone was there for you, Grantaire. You… seem like a cool guy. Good for Enjolras. And hey, you got me to come out to you, and I hardly know you. I’ve never told anyone… I think everyone always just assumed I was straight.”

“Well, we live in a heteronormative society, my friend. But I think I knew about you. My gaydar is _really_ accurate.”

“I guess I should sober up and go apologize to Bahorel. He really gets on my nerves, but… I love him. A lot.”

The cynic took the last sip of his wine and stood up, reluctantly leaving the empty glass on the counter. “That’s a good idea. I’ll text Enjolras and have them meet us at the Musain, okay? Since it’s not a far walk.”

“Okay.”

They stumbled out of the bar together, Grantaire obviously more sober than the ginger. The walk was easy, and Enjolras—whom Taire had texted before they left—was impatiently waiting outside the cafe with Bahorel. The others were inside.

Bahorel ran to Feuilly as soon as he caught sight of him and crushed him with his embrace, locking his arms around the smaller boy’s torso. Feuilly drunkedly buried his face in Bahorel’s neck.

Grantaire strode up to his boyfriend with a half-smirk on his face. Enjolras thanked him properly before his expression turned from relief to concern and anger.

“You’ve been drinking. I can smell the wine on your breath.”

“Just a little.”

“Taire.” 

“ _Just a little_ , okay? It helped Feuilly open up to me about how he was feeling, and the guy was drinking anyway. I’m not even drunk.”

Enjolras’s face smoothed out a little. “Are you okay?”

“Honestly, I’m fine. I’m just glad your friend’s okay.”

“Me, too.” The blond’s facial expression changed again. “I’m going to take you back to Genevieve’s now, if that’s okay. You obviously don’t want to be at the meeting anyway, and… you’ve already done so much. And I don’t want you to get tempted to drink anymore.” 

Bahorel and Feuilly were talking to each other in hushed tones, not paying attention to the couple’s conversation. Grantaire shook his head. “I’d… actually rather not go back to Gen’s tonight. She treats me like she did when we were kids, and I’m not used to being babysat. Can I stay with you tonight?”

Without thinking about it, he responded, “Yes. But, I’ve got to stay and finish things up at the meeting, and you’d have to sleep on the couch, but yeah. I can… arrange for that to happen.”

“Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”

“Hey, Enj?” Bahorel said. He and Feuilly had stopped hugging and were waiting patiently for the other two to finish. “We’re gonna head out. It’s been a rough night, and it’s time for us to go home. Say goodbye to the others for us.”

Enjolras nodded, and grabbed Grantaire’s hand and led him back inside the cafe as the other two walked away.

Grantaire was surprised when Enjolras walked into the room, gently pushed Grantaire into his seat in the middle of the room, and sat on his lap. He claimed later that the wine he drank was making him blush, not the fact that he had a beautiful man on his lap.

“Feuilly and Bahorel went home, and I’m thinking about it, too. I’ve got an eight o’clock class tomorrow…”

Courfeyrac nodded in agreement. “Sleep sounds good right now. We’ll continue this on Saturday morning?”

The cafe mumbled in agreement, and the meeting was adjourned. Enjolras grabbed his boyfriend and started out the door, with Combeferre and Courfeyrac trailing behind them. Neither of them questioned why the cynic was going home with them.

When they arrived at the spacious apartment, Schrödinger immediately inspected Grantaire, and deemed him good enough. Courfeyrac and Combeferre dispersed to their separate bedrooms, and Grantaire took a seat on the couch.

“This seems comfortable enough to sleep on…” he said while petting the dog.

Enjolras sighed a sigh of relief. “Good. I’ll just… sleep in my bedroom, then. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Enjy.”

The door closed, and Grantaire spread his legs out on the couch. Schrödinger pawed at Combeferre’s bedroom door, but finally settled onto Taire’s lap. After a few minutes the door to Enjolras’s bedroom opened, and Grantaire popped up to see him standing in the doorway, dressed in only his boxers and a long-sleeved shirt.

His breath got knocked out of him.

“Hey, you can… you can sleep with me, if you’d like. There’s plenty of room in my bed… and I wouldn’t mind having you.”

Grantaire nodded, and got up on the couch. Schrödinger followed him into Enjolras’s bedroom.

It was decorated elegantly, like Enjolras. The bed was a soft white, and it was made up properly. Grantaire sat on the edge of the bed as Enjolras took off his towel, leaving just his red and white boxers underneath.

“Your chest is… well, amazing.”

“Thank you.” Enjolras sat awkwardly on the other side of the bed. Finally, he stuck his feet under the covers and laid his head on the pillow. Grantaire did the same.

“You know, you can take off your clothes. I don’t mind.”

“Are you seducing me, Mr. Enjolras?”

Apollo’s cheeks went red. “No, I—I just thought you’d be more comfortable.”

Grantaire chuckled and got up and stripped down to his boxers quickly. Then, he crawled back in the bed. “You’re right. It is more comfortable.”

“Well… goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

It was an awkward moment, but finally, Enjolras turned toward Grantaire and whispered something to him.

“Grantaire… I think… I love you.”

Slowly, upon hearing those words escape from Enj’s lips, he moved his hands upward, so he was stroking the back of Apollo’s neck. His hands, for the first time in a long time, were not shaking, and he was totally captivated by Enjolras, who held R with his gaze.

“I love you,” Enjolras repeated. “Grantaire, I love you.”

Grantaire’s lips were on Enjolras’s, and they kissed. It was enchanting. It was important.

It was love.


End file.
